


Lost Soul

by Lancre_witch



Category: Legacy of Kain, MediEvil (Video Games)
Genre: A bit of humour, Crossover, Fix-it crossover, Gen, It is now, Shameless Self-Indulgence, essentially Raz gets dropped into the plot of MediEvil, is that a thing?, or not dealing with feelings because we are talking about Raziel here, people Dealing With Feelings, the crossover no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2018-10-24 14:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 29,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10743570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lancre_witch/pseuds/Lancre_witch
Summary: After sacrificing himself to save Nosgoth, Raziel finds himself in a strange land called Gallowmere.Rated for zombies, violence and language.





	1. The Graveyard

“I am, as before, your right hand.”

Raziel had not known what to expect from his confinement. Darkness, blankness, perhaps, oblivion if he was lucky. He felt himself slipping from reality, reminded of the few times his spectral form had unravelled and the hazy, sleep-like state which accompanied it. If this was to be his fate, he would be hard pushed to lament it, given the alternatives. It was almost restful…

He awoke lying on damp grass under unfamiliar stars. The moon was full, but it was not the moon of Nosgoth.

Legs shaking, he hauled himself up with the aid of a nearby statue. The cold marble was carved into the likeness of an angel, making him think guiltily of Janos. God knew what the Hylden would do to him, and knowing the Elder God, he may have a hand in it.

A nagging thought in the back of his mind made him look down at his own cloven hands. There was no longer any sign of the wraith blade curling around his right arm. Raziel concentrated, trying to summon it, to no avail. This meant… what? He was now that version of himself? The wraith blade had been absorbed into the Reaver and he had been transported here, wherever that was? Was he trapped in the Reaver and this a delusion, some sort of fever dream?

Answers to his questions were beyond his reach, but this felt different to his previous incarnations. There was not the heaviness of corporations, the sense of mortality upon him, of the spectral realm pulling him back. He felt instead the strength of the spectral realm flowing through him, although he was very much material.

He filed the mysteries away. Doubtless, he would find his answers in time, possibly when someone next tried to kill him.

Raziel looked around, taking more note of his surroundings. He was obviously in a graveyard, but further investigation was curtailed by a scream. He sighed. It would have been pleasant to have a few minutes of peace before being dragged back into his convoluted destiny.

 

A little way along the twisting path, Raziel got his first clue about the origin of the mysterious scream. The dead were restless here, not to mention vicious. Still, the corpse was only human and was dispatched with a few strikes of his claws.

He dropped lightly from the path onto the loose earth below and was immediately set upon by enemies crawling from the earth. His mind immediately leapt to the Melchiahim, but they did not have the scent of vampires. One mouldering hand grasped his ankle and he toppled backwards, trying to clutch at one of his assailants, but only succeeded in pulling it down on top of him. He rolled sideways, pushing it off and breaking the grip on his ankle, then scrabbled backwards, lashing out whenever one got too close.

These were mindless creatures, attacking without skill or thought, but relentless in their offensive. They were clearly under the control of another being - a necromancer, possibly - but that was of little consequence at the moment. Sloppy as the attacks were, they were constant and he was vastly outnumbered and unarmed. He wondered if he would be able to return to the material realm if he did fall to them. He would much prefer not to find out.

Back pressed against the cold earth bank, the ranks of the undead massing against him, Raziel fought back in desperation. It did not seem to matter how fast he struck or how many he damaged, there were always more to take their place.

After an eternity, the ranks seemed to be thinning, but not due to his efforts. Those at the back were turning away, having spotted another target, and judging by the yelps, the same person he had heard screaming earlier.

Now the press had thinned a little, Raziel’s fighting style came into its own. He dodged and ducked, moving too quickly for the revenants to return his blows, hurrying to the aid of his unwitting rescuer.

A sword cut through the air a little too close to him for comfort, so Raziel removed himself to a safe distance and eyed its wielder critically, even as he continued in the melee. An armoured skeleton was hacking through their common enemies with more strength than skill. By the way he handled his sword, Raziel suspected he was more used to stabbing sacks of straw than human foes.

 

“Not quite a knight in shining armour,” he remarked, once the battle was over, “but I am in no position to complain. Who do I have to thank for your aid?”

The skeleton bowed and mumbled, “Sir Daniel Fortesque, Cap’tn o’ th’ King’s Militia, at your service.”

“And may I ask which King?” That would hopefully give him some idea of where – and when – he was.

“King Perigrine. O’ course tha’ would ha’ been about a century back.”

The name meant nothing to him. “This may seem like an incredibly foolish question, but where am I?”

“This may come as a bit o’ a shock to ye, but you died,” he explained gently.

“Yes, I am aware. Several times over. _Now please tell me where I am_.”

Dan was taken aback, but complied. “You’re in the necropolis, Gallowmere’s cemetery, you know?”

“Gallowmere…” Raziel repeated the name carefully, searching his memory for the place to no avail.

“Good grief, you must be lost. Tell ye what, there’s a library in Gallow’s Town, it should have a map that can help ye.”

Dan gestured for him to join him and started walking. As he had no better ideas, Raziel followed.

 

“Damn!” Dan pulled against the heavy oak doors without success.

“Dan?” Raziel tried to attract his attention, while the knight tried pushing them again.

“Dan!” he shouted and pointed to the inscription on the arch.

_Beyond these gates lies the land of the living and the Stained Glass Demon holds the key._

“Oh.” Dan had the good grace to look sheepish. “The mausoleum’s this way. You ever seen a demon?”

“More than you could imagine,” Raziel said wearily.


	2. Cemetery Hill

“…forgotten nobodies had best stay away.”

Dan growled at the gargoyle and stalked off before Raziel could question him. It was bad enough the stone creatures knowing him for what he was without them telling a man he had only just met. He could hear Raziel’s footsteps behind him, but his attention was on the figure at the top of the hill. His old nemesis Zarok awaited.

At any other time, he would have felt terror, but shame and anger were seething within him like a witches’ brew. He drew his sword and charged, heedless to whatever spell Zarok had just cast.

 

Raziel looked at the gargoyle quizzically. “Forgotten nobodies?” He was not having a good day and if people were going to insult him, he would ensure that they wouldn’t either.

“Fortesque. First casualty of the battle. Absolute failure. I wouldn’t give you tuppence for his chances.”

He had apparently been resurrected in the middle of an undead uprising and the only person willing to help him was a failed knight. Excellent. He sighed and walked towards the cemetery’s hill. Dan was nowhere to be seen when he turned the corner, so Raziel began to explore the area in search of him.

At the bottom of the path winding up the hill was an incredibly localised pool of lava he immediately filed away as ‘suspicious’. To the right were yet more revenants, helpfully in close conjunction with a bonfire.

Ignoring the scent of burning flesh, Raziel noticed a boulder half covering a doorway cut into the living stone at the foot of the hill. There was no way Dan could be in there, but Raziel was nothing if not curious, so he rolled the boulder out of the way.

The room inside was dark, dank and stuffy. He grabbed a thin log from the bonfire for a torch and re-entered. Aside from a case of mouldering books of magic, there was nothing of interest in the first room, but up a flight of stairs there was a circular chamber lined with gated cells, some containing revenants and others items he could not identify.

Noticing the brazier in the middle of the room, Raziel lit it, hoping it would illuminate a lever or other mechanism by which some of the gates could be opened. He was not expecting all the cells to open as it burst into life, but this was, in fact, what happened.

Finally free of their confinement, the zombies, quite predictably, attacked him with vigour. This was getting somewhat tiresome; he really did need to acquire a weapon.

Once he had dispatched them, their souls were drawn into a goblet in one of the cells before he could consume them. Intrigued, he picked it up, noting the film of purple, vaporous liquid at the bottom. Beside it was a small bronze pentagram. Raziel recognised it as a summoning charm, but of what he could not tell. He slipped it into his cowl and took the cup with him, hoping to get some information from the gargoyle in the entrance hall.

Before he could do so, he heard the now-familiar sound of Dan’s screams, this time accompanied by a chorus of metallic thuds and clangs. Clearly the gargoyle had not been exaggerating. He rushed outside to help.

 

This was why he needed to stop rushing in, Dan reflected, as he was met by a boulder halfway up the hill. It was too close to dodge and too fast to outrun, all he had time to do was raise his shield for the little protection it would give, and pray.

The boulder knocked him sideways and onto the path below. He scrambled up and onto a nearby verge just before it rolled past him on its way down the hill. More boulders followed and although he avoided them as best he could, he could not get more than half way up before being painfully and ignobly back down.

 

Raziel spotted Dan halfway up the hill and started towards him, then paused. His telekinesis would not be strong enough to smash the boulders, but he may be able to push them off course. He ran along the twisting path, jumping the boulders which rolled towards him. When he reached Dan, he shot a bolt of telekinetic energy at the first boulder, picked him up bodily and dragged him onto a verge.

Dan grinned at him, as much as a skull is able, then froze when he saw Raziel’s expression.

“When, precisely, were you going to tell me about the sorcerer? Or, for that matter, your part in all this?”

The failed knight looked at his feet, unable to meet his eye. “I hoped you wouldn’t find out. Dying in the first charge… it’s not something I’m proud of. I thought get you on your way and then go after Zarok, try to make things right.”

“If you fight him on your own, the only thing you are going to achieve is your own death. Now wait here. And hold this.” He thrust the chalice into Dan’s hands and continued up the hill. Revenge was a motive Raziel understood well and he knew how easily it could turn to blindness and self-destruction. It was not his business, but he felt he owed Forteque something and he wanted to know more about this strange land.

When he reached the summit, the sorcerer was nowhere to be seen. He turned to the statues which had made getting up here so difficult, then watched as they dissolved into black smoke. Raziel shrugged. If they were going to make his life easier, he wasn’t going to complain.

A few minutes later Dan joined him at the summit, turning the cup over and over in his hands. “It doesn’t spill,” he said, mostly to himself. “Where did you find this?”

“In the cavern below, along with this-” he flourished the pentagram.

“Well, that’s a witch talisman, this is… something else.” He pocketed the cup and looked around. “I see the lanky bastard ran off, not surprising.” He grumbled and walked towards the mausoleum.


	3. The Mausoleum

Their footsteps echoed on the tiled floor as they walked between broken pews towards the gates which separated them from their target. Raziel was on edge, expecting the calm to be broken at any moment by an ambush. It was almost a relief when he heard Dan cry out in surprise as a small, fast shape leapt up from the shadows and snatched at his sword.

“Oi! Gerroff.” He tried to shake it free, but the little creature hung on, hands wrapped around the guard. Raziel grabbed its legs and pulled, dislodging its grip and sending both of them flying backwards into the dusty, splintered woodwork of a nearby pew, which shattered, dropping both wraith and imp through the floor.

When the sounds of splintering wood and cursing had died away, Dan cautiously made his way over to the hole and looked down.

“Raz? Are you okay?”

A petulant voice wound up from the depths. “Raz? Really? ... No harm done, but I am afraid your assailant got away. I think we fell through an old trapdoor.”

“Can you get back up?”

“Not this way.”

“Right.” Dan jumped down to join him, forgetting that Raziel was still lying on the floor below.

“Oof.”

“Sorry,” Dan mumbled and rolled off.

“Why in the world did you do that?” Raziel asked once they were both upright. “You have no idea if there is any way out. We could both be trapped down here.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you down here. Besides What good could I have done up there if there was no way out?”

“Aside from got a rope?” There was no anger in his tone. Although Dan’s reasoning was questionable, it was nice to know that someone cared for his welfare.

“Looks like we’re safe. There’s a light up ahead.”

The light turned out to be coming from an imp’s torch. One short fight later and Raziel raised his newly-acquired torch in an attempt to see down the three passageways which branched out of the small circular chamber. He walked towards one of them, paused, and cocked his head.

“Can you hear organ music?” he asked.

Dan listened, then nodded. “Sounds like a funeral dirge, and not one of the best.”

“If we meet the organist, we could perhaps make a request. Stop, for example- ouch!” He drew his hand back from the glass spikes he had been inspecting. Dan joined him and poked one with his sword, causing it to shatter.

“Oops.”

“Hmm…” Raziel stepped back a little. “Would you care to hit a few more?”

He obliged, clearing a narrow path through the spikes. Raziel gingerly walked along it, then turned back once he had cleared the glass. “I would advise you not to follow until I know where this leads. The floor does not seem very stable.”

Dan gave a casual salute, then watched Raziel until he was could see nothing but the distant glow of his torch. After a minute or two, he heard a startled yell and a distant rumbling which got steadily louder. A few moments later, Raziel appeared, running towards him. He vaulted the glass spikes and turned around in time to see the last of the floor collapse.

When he looked around, Dan was staring at him. “What… the hell?”

“This-” Raziel waved a page of sheet music at him- “apparently used to exist in some load bearing capacity, given the room collapsed when I took it.”

“Okay, new rule: never touch anything.”

“I can agree to that.”

They picked their way carefully along the series of corridors and rooms, moving by unspoken agreement towards the music.

A slight argument broke out regarding whether they should go up or down. Dan was all for getting out as quickly as he could, but Raziel was used to secrets being hidden underground and wanted to explore further.

Eventually this was settled by Raziel walking off and Dan hurrying after him.

“It’s dark, there’s broken glass everywhere and I don’t like it.”

Raziel sighed. “Fine. We get to the end of this corridor then go back, deal?”

“Deal- wait, what’s this.”

Raziel brought the torch closer and the light reflected off a glass heart. He saw Dan reaching out to touch it, “No, don’t-” but was interrupted by the tinkling of broken glass. “What happened to ‘never touch anything’?” he asked, then shook his head. “Never mind, let’s go.”

Dan hurried up the stairs as soon as they reached them, eager to be out of the dark underground passageways.

“I see you have found our mysterious organist,” Raziel observed when he joined him in the room above.

Said organist turned to look at them, never once missing a note. “Trapped! Forever trapped! I am forced to spend eternity playing this one dreary tune. Good sirs, leave while you still can, before the Stained Glass Demon turns his wrath upon you.”

“Or-” Raziel removed the pages of music from his cowl- “I could give you this and you could tell us how to defeat him.”

“Oh, I could never do that,” the phantom said loudly. He lowered his voice and leaned towards them. “He keeps his heart shrouded in the darkness of the crypt. Shatter it and he will fall.”

“Understood.” The paper exchanged hands and the two unwilling heroes continued on their way.

Once they were out of earshot, Raziel turned to Dan and said, “So, a glass heart. Where have we seen one of those before?”

“You don’t suppose I killed it?” Dan asked hopefully.

“I doubt it.”

As they talked, they wandered past a stained glass window with a rather disturbing design upon it. “Unusual ecclesiastical architecture you have here,” Raziel said, pointing at it.

Before he could reply, the ground shook, there was a sound like a wet finger on a wineglass, and the Stained Glass Demon leapt from the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me updating regularly! I took a few liberties with the mausoleum's layout, mostly due to bad memory.


	4. The Stained Glass Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make the crossbow work a bit more realistically than in game and got my information from a) my nerdy uncle and b) this site: http://www.benjaminrose.com/post/fast-archery-techniques-part-3-the-crossbow  
> I imagine Dan uses hand spanning because he’s a pretty strong bloke (the guy uses a broadsword one handed) and it’s one of the quickest methods of reloading.

“Hell!” Dan jumped backwards.

“Not far off, I fear.” Raziel started circling the demon, waiting for it to attack.

It leapt at him and slashed with its claws, but Raziel ducked under its arm and sped to the opposite side of the room, then spun around to face it again. Dan had backed against the wall and was fumbling with something Raziel couldn’t see. He would get no help from that quarter. The demon was rising into the air, wait, was that the glass heart between its hands? What of the one downstairs? Were they somehow one and the same?

He had no time to ponder these questions, as the heart started firing shards of glass at him. Raziel dodged most of the projectiles, but some still hit home and he gasped in pain. He circled away from Dan, keeping its attention on him, silently cursing the knight for his cowardice.

Another volley of glass and Raziel was more prepared, but did not have sufficient composure to retaliate. With the next attack, he sent a bolt of telekinetic energy at the heart, but got hit by a shower of sharp glass for his trouble. He stumbled backwards, trying to keep his balance, glass crunching underfoot, until he was pressed against the wall. He watched the demon, trying to guess its next move, when he heard a ‘thunk’ and a crossbow bolt hit the demon’s heart, cracking it. Both demon and wraith turned to see Dan already spanning his bow for a second shot. At another time, Raziel may have laughed at him standing on the bow and trying to pull the cord back without falling over, but not when there was a demon standing over him. Instead, he dealt a useless blow to the beast with his claws, distracting it from the struggling knight.

Once the next arrow was notched, he led the creature back towards Dan, who turned out to be a surprisingly good marksman. This time the quarrel hit the heart at its centre, causing it to shatter, soon followed by the rest of the beast.

Raziel stepped hesitantly towards the heap of broken glass where the demon had so recently been, then winced and stopped. Dan had already picked up the key from the shards when he noticed Raziel standing on one leg, trying to pull slivers of glass from his foot. He reached an arm out to steady him, which the wraith leaned upon gratefully.

“You took quite a beating. Here, let me help.” When Raziel made no objection, he took hold of the arm which had taken the brunt of the damage, having been used to shield his face. It was fortunate he had no blood to lose; some of the larger shards had hit bone. Dan repressed a shudder and set about removing them.

“Turn your arm over… I think we’re done.”

Dan let go of his arm and went to pull out the few shards caught in his tattered wings, but Raziel flinched away from his touch. “I-I would prefer to do this myself,” he said shakily, turning away, so Dan couldn’t see his expression.

He finished picking bits of glass from his wings, then turned around with an expression of brittle cheerfulness. “Gallows Town awaits.”


	5. Guardians of the Graveyard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may be short, but it marks the start of me using any bits of folklore I can get my grubby little hand on. The next one will be longer, I promise.

The key turned easily in the lock and the doors opened on to a small green which stretched away to the open gates. The pillars on either side were surmounted by statues of snarling dogs. Once they stepped through onto the grass, a howl echoed around the graveyard, stone turned to fur, and the great black hounds leapt from their pedestals and ran towards them.

“Uh, nice doggies,” Dan said as he tried to keep sight of both the grimhounds circling them.

Raziel stood back to back with him, claws raised, waiting for them to attack. “At least they are only dogs. In Nosgoth we have dire wolves.”

“These aren’t just dogs.” Dan’s voice contained a panicked note. “They’re graveyard grims, meant to protect the graveyard, which means keeping us in.”

“An unusual definition of ‘defend’, albeit one I have heard before. Is it possible to kill them?”

“Probably?” Dan jumped sideways and swung his sword as one lunged. The blow would have killed a flesh and blood creature, but the great black dog only yelped and retreated.

“That is not an encouraging sign. Can we run?”

Dan glanced at the dogs again. “I think we’d get about three feet.”

One snapped at Raziel and got clawed across the nose for its trouble. “At least we know they can feel pain.”

“The problem is, so can we.” Dan tried to take another swing at the hounds, but they had learned to stay beyond the reach of his sword.

“Do you have any plan beyond ‘hit them when they come in range’?” Raziel asked after a few more blows had been traded, causing little visible injury to the grimhounds.

“Not really. You?”

“One, but it is not something I particularly want to risk unless I have to.”

“What is it? I don’t fancy our chances at the moment.”

“What real animal has eyes of fire as they do? The inscription on the gate referred to the land of the living as though it were a separate realm. I do not believe it was being poetic. Beyond those gates, normal rules apply. They will be made mortal, if they are capable of following us at all. I hope.”

“You _hope_?” Dan asked in disbelief, looking at the stretch of grass which lay between them and freedom.

“I did say I didn’t want to risk it.”

“Do you often have ideas like that?”

Raziel looked back on his previous life decisions. “Fairly frequently.”

“And they work?”

“Somewhat less frequently,” he admitted.

“Can we sort of… walk towards the gate?”

They started shuffling in that direction, accompanied by a louder growling from the grims and an increase in the frequency and ferocity of their attacks.

“Or we could just run and hope.”

Dan nodded, brought his sword round in an arc, grabbed Raziel’s hand and started running towards the gate, the hounds in hot pursuit. If it had been a few metres further away, they wouldn’t have made it. If Raziel’s guess had been wrong, the black dogs would have been gnawing on their bones. Fortunately, the grims were as much prisoners as guards, and although the barked and growled, they could not set a paw beyond the consecrated ground of the graveyard.


	6. Scarecrow Fields

“Are you certain this is the way to Gallows Town?” Raziel asked. The scenery had grown steadily more agricultural over the past few hours, and Dan had said the journey would take less than two.

“Things have changed in the last hundred years. I think we should have gone left three miles back. By this point, it’ll be quicker to cut up through Pumpkin Gorge than backtrack.”

“Is there much chance of that getting us more lost?” Raziel remembered how much trouble he had navigating Nosgoth in different time periods.

“None at all. My granny used to live that way on. I remember she made the best pumpkin pies, pumpkin beer, pumpkin…” Raziel let his gaze wander across the scenery as Dan continued his reminisces. He was certain that scarecrow had been facing the other way before.

He turned his head and carried on walking, then suddenly spun around. Yes, that scarecrow was definitely moving.

“Dan,” he said, keeping his voice low, “Do scarecrows often move around in this part of the world.”

“Where?” Dan asked softly.

“The field to the right of us. Maybe twelve feet from the fence the last time I looked, but it moved pretty fast.”

Dan glanced to his left. “More on the other side. We’re being tracked. Just keep walking, there are some farm buildings up ahead. If they attack, run. Tatty-bogles are hard to kill.”

A cawing made him flinch, but Raziel seemed comforted by the presence of the black bird on the fencepost. “Don’t touch it,” Dan snapped, when he walked closed. “The corbies are in a league wi’ ‘em, their spies of something. Or maybe the other way around. Either way, keep back.”

Raziel backed away, getting as close to Dan as possible as they continued walking. He was sure he could hear rustling behind them and his imagination peopled the darkness with an army of scarecrows. This was foolish – in the time of the clans he and his kin were the ones to be feared in the dark. Then he wondered if this was how the humans had felt, hurrying home after sunset, fearful of the night. Silently cursing his own weakness, his hand sought out Dan’s. The knight squeezed his fingers reassuringly and whispered, “We’re going to pick the pace up a little. Don’t run or they will, too.”

Raziel nodded, resisting the urge to look behind him. He could hear the rustling getting louder.

He never could figure out how a creature made of a couple of sticks and some old clothes and straw managed to vault over the fence, but nevertheless it managed it. The scarecrow stood in the middle of the dusty road in front of them, arms outstretched in a ghoulish parody of a welcome.

“Run!” Dan shouted, letting go of his hand and ducking to the left of the scarecrow. Raziel went to the right and risked a look behind. There were maybe half a dozen in the surrounding fields moving with a curious spinning gait, faster than a man could run.

As soon as they came to the first barn, Dan grabbed him, pulled him inside, slammed the door, and scrabbled for the bolts. Safe for the moment, they took stock of their surroundings. Bales of hay lined one wall of the wooden barn. A few empty and broken barrels lay in one corner, but the thing which drew the eye was the large mechanical device in the centre.

Dan wandered up to it, inspecting the insect-like machine. “Never seen anything like this before.”

“I believe it is called a crop rotator, a device for bringing in the harvest. Turel once showed me one.”

“Who’s Turel?”

Raziel’s voice became a little distant. “My brother. Second eldest, after myself. We were… close. He was always so interested in this sort of thing, never happier than when he was tinkering with something. If he was not in his forge, he would be in his gardens…” He trailed off under the weight of memory.

“Will that door hold them?” he asked, seeking to distract himself.

“It should do. They’re not strong and they’re not heavy, but they are persistent.”

“In other words, we are stuck in here.”

“Yes.”

There was silence for a few minutes, broken only by the occasional metallic noise as Raziel poked around inside the machine and the sound of Dan dragging some bits of clutter in front of the door to create a makeshift barricade.

At length, Raziel looked up and asked, “You said they cannot be killed easily. How _can_ they be killed?”

“Fire’s good for things like that. Tatty-bogles, vampires, mummies, anything like that’s vulnerable to fire.”

The word ‘vampires’ brought back far too many unpleasant memories and Raziel pulled a lever a little harder than intended. The lever came away in his hand, a horrible grinding noise came from the depths of the machine, and it lurched forwards, blades spinning.

Raziel dived out of its way and watched in horror as the crop rotator collided with the bleached wood of the barn wall and tore through it, barely slowing as the planks splintered around it. He ran to follow it, barely hearing Dan’s cry of alarm. Unfortunately, the scarecrows were crowded around the door on the other side and were spared the devastation the runaway harvester was dealing out. After crashing through the fence, it cut a single straight line through a field, leaving sheaves of corn in its way.

 

Raziel had solved one of their problems by creating a bigger one. Dan wondered if this was what he had meant when they had faced the grims, not that it mattered at the moment. He hurried outside, hoping to get a head start on the scarecrows the crash would undoubtedly have alerted. The wraith was still watching the harvesting device, not noticing the scarecrows rounding the corner.

Dan had a few moments to make a decision. His sword was useless against them, Raziel was unarmed, and all he had on his side was a fair turn of speed. He grabbed the wraith and ran.

“I thought you said we shouldn’t run,” Raziel panted as he was towed along behind.

“Have you got any better ideas?”

Raziel hadn’t. He ran.

 

The cornfields were a maze. A few paths ran along hedges, then split and petered out. Several times they met a dead end and had to backtrack. If the scarecrows had all kept to the paths and not dispersed amongst the fields, they would not have stood a chance of escape, not that they stood much of one as it was.

Raziel spotted a fallow field across a nearby fence and started towards it, but Dan held him back. “No.”

“But if we cut across just a couple of rows of corn we could-”

“We can’t go in the cornfields.” As if to illustrate his point, a thin, gnarled hand reached out from between the stalks and snatched at the air where Raziel had been a few moments before.

He pointed to a scarecrow striding across the field far too close to comfort. “Why are they able to do that if we cannot?” He started jogging before Dan could respond, but when he caught up a few seconds later, he answered.

“The corn creatures only attack things with a soul. It’s this mechanisation. The Corn Queen hasn’t been paid her dues.”

At any other time, Raziel would have been curious about the mysterious Queen of those creatures, but his thoughts were only of survival. _Maze,_ he thought _, labyrinth. No way to escape, outrun them or kill them._

He studied their surroundings as he ran, searching for anything which could help them, and noticed something no mortal would have spotted. He hauled Dan to the left, heading towards a near-invisible column of smoke, a task which would have been easier if he could see above the corn. At last he saw a flicker of flame near a broken and abandoned windmill.

Someone had likely been stripping it out and burned everything of no value, but to the scarecrow hounded pair it was worth more than gold. Raziel immediately took up a half-charred broom handle which had splintered into a vicious point and turned to face the encroaching scarecrows. A gust of wind caused it to spark and crackle as he brandished it.

Dan started hurriedly tearing strips of fabric from a broken windmill blade and wrapping them around the heads of arrows. “Can you hold them off for a moment?” he called as he fumbled with his crossbow.

Raziel stood his ground as the scarecrows advanced, hoping his plan would work. He impaled the first one with his makeshift spear, as he had hundreds of vampires before. _No, now was not the time to think of that_. He held the shaft firm as the scarecrow struggled and sparks leapt from wood to straw. The sacking tore and the wind played amongst the straw, fanning it into flame.

Another was trying to get past its stricken colleague, but a quick glance behind showed that Dan was still not ready to fight. Raziel moved to one side, shifted his bodyweight and pushed the broom shaft right through the scarecrow and into the next. Flames leapt from one to the other. When he was certain they had taken hold, Raziel removed his spear and shrank into a defensive posture.

Most of the scarecrows had faded back into the darkness after seeing the fate of their fellows, who were even now crumbling into ash, their wooden bones falling onto the dust. One who was either more brave or foolhardy than the others stepped towards him, but before he could even raise the burning spear, a flaming crossbow bolt sailed through the air and hit its chest. It started to spin frantically, trying to extinguish the flames which were taking hold, but to no avail. Realising the fruitlessness of its task, it started towards them at terrifying speed, intent on ending its killers.

There was no sense in staying to fight. The pair ran and did not stop until the fields of corn and rye were far behind and the angry cawing of the crows had been silenced. Safe for the moment, they continued east.


	7. Pumpkin Gorge

Towering cliffs rose up on either side of the narrow valley and blocked out the light of the moon. Raziel, whose eyes were made for darkness, took the lead warily. This was the perfect place for an ambush.

He jumped when something rolled down the path towards him, then felt a little embarrassed when recognised it as a pumpkin. Ignoring Dan’s sniggers, he kicked the fruit in disgust.

A somewhat damp explosion and a great deal of screaming later, Raziel was sitting on the ground, trying to massage some feeling back into his leg which, after the initial pain, had gone worryingly numb. He looked up at Dan hovering worriedly beside him and said, “I know I am not an agricultural expert, but I do not believe pumpkins ought to do that.”

“Not normally. These ones are different. The witches developed them in the last war against Zarok.”

“Are there likely to be more?”

“Guess.”

Raziel thought while he rubbed his leg. “I think telekinesis will be our friend here.”

“Or we could just avoid them,” Dan suggested.

“Dan, I’ve seen you trip over a pebble. There is no way in the world I am going to let you get anywhere near exploding pumpkins.”

Dan considered the truth of this. “Okay.”

 

Further down the track, the valley shallowed and widened, and the moon shone down on a cluster of abandoned farm buildings. The reason for their abandonment soon made itself known. The soil in front of them crumbled and fountained up as a vaguely humanoid figure rose up from beneath the ground. The pair stepped forwards, weapons raised. They had been expecting another zombie, not the mutated plant which started towards them.

Dan swore and raised his shield as a tongue-like tendril whipped at him. Raziel struck while it was occupied, claws ripping into and tearing off the fleshy ‘arm’ which had been raised to protect its head. Like the bud which protects the flower, he thought, then struck again. This time, its other arm took the impact, leaving it open to Dan’s sword which swung down and sliced its head in two.

The pumpkin creature fell in a shower of seeds and pith. “More witch’s work?” Raziel asked.

Dan shrugged. “Let’s just hope we don’t meet any more.”

His hopes would prove to be unfounded. The entire valley was crawling with mutated plant-life. Mostly, they were particularly violent varieties of pumpkin; unpleasant, but easily despatched. The hanging vines were more of a problem for Raziel; they tangled in his wings and wrapped around his wrists when he tried to tear them down, not to mention their unpleasant resemblance to his former master. He could feel his nerves tensing like a bowstring and prayed this part of the trek would not take long.

“Damn!” He glanced towards Dan, who was pulling at a gate, then returned to trying to extricate himself from the tangle of creepers he had got caught in.

Once free, he joined the knight in studying the gate’s unusual lock. It looked like nothing so much as a claw reaching out for an offering.

“Rune key,” Dan explained, “It won’t open for anything else. Whatever’s behind this gate, someone must really want it to stay put.”

“Let me guess,” Raziel said with a resignation born of experience, “that is the way we need to go.”

“Unless you fancy scrambling across a boulder field.”

Raziel sighed. “Let’s find the bloody key.”

 

The rune key was less well hidden than expected. It was on a strangely organic looking pedestal down a small overgrown track. There were no guards, no bars, and Raziel distrusted it intensely. Dan, who was by all accounts far less cynical, stepped forwards to take it.

The ground rumbled beneath him and Dan drew his sword, expecting to do battle with more of the pumpkin creatures. Instead, half a dozen tentacles rose out of the earth and thrashed at him. He barely had time to swing his sword before Raziel rushed past him, throwing himself at the nearest undulating appendage and tearing at it with hands and feet. The creature let out an inhuman screech of pain and turned all its attention on the wraith.

While it was distracted, Dan ran forwards and grabbed the time rune before retreating to safety.

When he looked back, Raziel was at the centre of a writhing mass of tentacles, but seemed to be holding his own if the screeches were anything to go by.

“Raz,” he called, “Raz, I’ve got it. You can come back now!” His voice got increasingly louder and more frantic as he realised Raziel was not going to stop until either he or the creature was dead.

“Hell,” he muttered, pocketed the rune, sheathed his sword, and ran towards him.

Raziel was almost weightless. He picked him up under the arms and fled, ignoring, for the moment, the other’s quiet sobs.

Once they were out of the thing’s reach, Dan set down the now silent wraith and said, “I’m not going to push and I’m not going to pry, but if you want to talk, I’m here, and if there’s any help I can give, I will.”

Raziel shook his head. “I… have had bad experiences with a similar creature in the past. It is not something I wish to talk about, but do not believe your kindness is unappreciated.”

He left for the gate before Dan could respond, but did not object when a friendly arm draped itself over his shoulder.

 

The gate swung open onto a small farm not dissimilar to the one they had just left. “That seems an awful lot of trouble to protect a prize pumpkin.” Raziel nodded towards the fruit, more than twice the height of a man. “I doubt anyone would be able to steal it even if they were so inclined.”

“I think it might have more to do with the witch. It’s worth talking to her anyway – if the pumpkins are under her control, we can ask her to stop.”

“And she will listen to us?” Raziel asked sourly, but followed Dan to the cauldron, wondering how he knew there was a witch here, and where she was.

Dan reached inside his breastplate and produced the witch charm then waved it over the cauldron. Raziel was about to ask him what he was doing, then an old lady appeared in a shower of sparks. With her orange dress, green hat and large girth, she resembled a pumpkin herself.

“Greetings kind sirs,” she said. “I am the Pumpkin Witch. I’m like a mother to those pumpkins – I give them all the love and care a young fruit could ever ask for, from the moment they first push a shoot above the soil, right up until their heads are cut off and eaten – and look, see how they repay me! Running around and causing mischief!”

Raziel recovered from his shock enough to ask, “Is there nothing you can do to stop them?”

“I’m afraid not, dear. It’s that nasty old big pumpkin. He’s a bad influence on the young seedlings. If you teach him a lesson in manners, I might give you a nice present.”

Before either of them could respond, she waved her wand and disappeared in a shower of sparks.

Dan and Raziel looked at each other. “What-” Raziel began, but Dan just shrugged and shook his head.

Somewhat bemused, they wandered over to the giant pumpkin, wondering what was so dangerous about it, especially as it remained resolutely inanimate as they approached. Raziel threw a bolt of telekinetic energy at it, not wanting to risk another kick. Dan hacked at one of the surrounding vines. The pumpkin just sat there, ripening slightly.

“To hell with this,” Raziel growled. “Dan, hand me that talisman.”

He stalked back to the cauldron and waved the witch talisman. The moment she appeared he started talking. “Don’t start talking about your precious seedlings, just tell me how the fuck I’m meant to find the goddamn pumpkin.”

“Oh. Someone’s in a bad mood. You need to mash his pod sacks to wake him up, dearie.” She patted him on the head and disappeared.

Upon his return, Raziel did not look any happier. “What is a pod sack and how do we mash it?”

“See that light green bulge in the vine, that’s a pod sack.”

Raziel set about it with all the viciousness of centuries of repressed anger. Dan stepped back as chunks of plant flew off in all directions, then he looked up and stepped back further. A jagged crack opened up in the bottom half of the pumpkin, and the Pumpkin King screeched.

“Uh, Raziel.”

“I’ve made another terrible decision. Yes, I am aware.”

“Actually, I was going to say, are you going to be okay with the tentacles and whatnot?”

“Oh.” He looked up at the awakening monstrosity and made a decision. “Yes, yes I should be. Thank you.”

He wasn’t. He couldn’t remember the last time he was anything like okay, but Dan needed him. His experience lay in tourney, not battle, and he would not manage this fight on his own.

Raziel was used to this, he knew when to duck, how to dodge the tentacles which lashed at him, but still could not get close enough to cause any real damage. Dan was having some luck with his sword, severing the tendrils which came near him, but not enough to prevent them from striking him.

He shot a couple of telekinetic bolts at the pumpkin, doing nothing but turning its attention on him. Raziel dully hoped Dan was making the most of the distraction as tentacles grabbed at him, far more than he could hope to fend off, and started wrapping themselves around his limbs. He was lifted up, still struggling, and carried towards the open jagged mouth of the Pumpkin King.

The grip around his right leg loosened and he looked down to see Dan hacking at the base of the overgrown vines which held him.

“Idiot!” he shouted. “Hit the damn pumpkin!”

“But-” Dan began.

“And don’t argue.” He started kicking the tendrils with his free leg, glaring at Dan until he switched targets.

His sword sank into the flesh easily. The Pumpkin King screeched and tried to shake him off, but Dan held on to the hilt, allowing the plant’s own movements to deepen and widen the cut. Vines thrashed and struck as he continued hacking madly, trying to stop the assault. Raziel was thrown from its grasp and dropped on top of the pumpkin. He dug in all four sets of claws, hoping it would be enough to stop him being thrown off.

The Pumpkin King was weakening now, its actions less intentional attacks and more agonised death throes. Its green shoots turned to yellow, brown patches appeared and spread across orange flesh, as Death finally claimed the demonic fruit. Vines fell limply to the ground and the pumpkin collapsed in on itself, taking Dan and Raziel with it.

“Urgh.” Dan pulled himself upright and tried to clean his sword on his equally dirty shirt.

“This is most unpleasant,” Raziel grumbled as he attempted to extricate himself from the pile of half-rotten pumpkin flesh. “Can you help me up, please?”

Dan stepped forward gingerly and held out a hand. He took another step towards Raziel as their hands met, slipped and fell. Wiping overripe pith from his eye socket, he sat up and tried, and failed, to get up.

Finally, the two of them, slipping and sliding and holding one another up, made their way back to the Pumpkin Witch.

“A most edifying spectacle, sirs, man and vegetable in a magnificent duel to the death. Ooh, I’ve come over all of a doodah. Here, have this lovely dragon gem as your reward. Oh, lovely magnificent creatures, dragons are.”

“Dragons?” Raziel asked, but she had already disappeared without so much as a goodbye. He shook his head and turned to Dan.

“Witches are a little odd,” he said, as if that was an explanation. “At least we won’t have to deal with any more of those horrible pumpkins.”

“Oh,” Raziel said teasingly, “I thought you rather liked them.”

“Don’t push it, Raz.”


	8. The Sleeping Village

The dark lanes were quiet as the pair drew closer to the lights of Gallows Town.

“This isn’t good,” Dan whispered. “I wouldn’t expect anyone to be up at this time of night, certainly not this many.”

Raziel padded forwards warily. Noises drifted towards him on the col night air; a child laughing, a woman humming, the distant lapping of water. It seemed so peaceful, so harmless, it would surely be no trouble to find the library, whatever Dan’s fears.

Dan hung back, certain something wasn’t right, but clueless as to what it was, when he was startled by a reedy voice from the shadows. “Poor villagers. The master possesses them. It mustn’t hurt them.”

He was somewhat put out at being referred to as an ‘it’ by a talking stone head, but Dan had no time to argue. If Raziel ran into any of the villagers, things could get messy.

He found Raziel in the town square, stood on the edge of the fountain, trying to reason with an axe-wielding six-year-old. “What would your parents say if they knew you were out at this time of night?”

The little girl giggled and swung the axe again. “Will you stop doing that? I have done battle with dark gods, child. If I had a mind to, I could kill you where you stand.” She apparently found this equally amusing and gave no indication of stopping.

“It’s no good trying to talk to her. Zarok’s possessed her, along with everyone else. She won’t stop until- oh shit!” Dan broke off and started running as the girl lost interest in Raziel and started towards him.

A few minutes later, Dan joined him on the fountain, the child watching them both and giggling. “I always thought myself good with children.” Raziel said as he stepped back to avoid getting his toes chopped off. “I believe I was mistaken.”

“The library’s just over there. Should we go with our usual plan?”

“You mean run?”

“Yes.”

 

Once inside, Dan slammed the door seconds before the girl followed. “I vote we leave this town as soon as possible. It’s not half as pleasant as I remember.”

“Agreed. I prefer enemies I can actually kill. Children do not fit in that category.”

“Well, don’t murder the adults either. It’s not their fault.”

Raziel, already leafing through a book, made a noncommittal noise and carried on reading. Dan shook his head and started looking for a map. “I swear this place used to be bigger,” he said, as much to himself as to Raziel. “These shelves here were further that was and there was a little reading room. I wonder…” He pulled the bookcase out of the way to find the space was still there, but now contained a large clay mould with a note attached.

“Raz, come over here. I think you ought to see this.”

The wraith followed and picked up the note. “More cryptic messages. Excellent.” He sighed. “We passed a forge on the way here. Hopefully the child has left.” He picked up the cast with no apparent effort and started walking.

“Wait, what happened to you going home?”

“The places on the map were all unknown to me. I may as well stay and aid you. If you have no objections?”

“No, of course not, but do you know anything about metalworking?”

“A little. Casting isn’t difficult. You melt the metal and pour it in.”

“That’s it?”

“I hope so.”

 

It was not so simple. Even getting the cast into the forge proved a trial due to the possessed villagers, and that was only the start of their problems.

“What kind of blacksmith does not keep any metal in his shop?” Raziel asked in frustration. They had lit the fire, found a crucible, and placed the mould on the floor, but had nothing they could melt down to fill it.

“Hmm,” Dan leafed through a cheap magazine which had been left on a barrel. “Could you use bronze with that thing?”

“Yes, I think so, but we don’t have any of that either.”

“Says here that the landlord of the Troll’s Head got a bust cast for him. We can pinch that and melt it down. It’s not like he’s going to complain.”

“The pub in the square?”

Dan nodded.

“Yes, I think I could do with a drink.”

 

When they reached the Troll’s Head, drinks were out of the question. The landlord and his wife immediately turned on them, the former with an axe and the latter a frying pan, which may not sound like a fearsome weapon to anyone who has not had one meet their face at high speed.

Dan vaulted over the bar, which quickly got an axe embedded in it. The landlord struggled to pull it out while his wife swatted at Raziel as if he were an overgrown fly, humming absentmindedly. Raziel spotted the bronze bust above the bar, hopped onto a keg of beer and jumped towards it.

As soon as he landed with the bust in hand, he was hit over the head with a frying pan.

To Raziel’s credit, he did not actually kill the landlord’s wife, but he did knock her unconscious with her husband’s bust before running out the door.

“Raz,” Dan shouted. “You can’t just- oh!” He sighed and followed.

 

“Right,” Raziel said once they safely back in the forge. “Bronze, mould, fire, bellows. How hard can this be?”

Several moderate to severe burns later, the answer turned out to be ‘very’. There was no crucible large enough to fit the entire bust in, so first it had to be broken up with a hammer. After the rebound almost took Dan’s head off, Raziel took over that part of the process. He also vetoed Dan’s suggestion that he should pour the molten metal, considering the comparative lack of dexterity in claws.

His doubts proved to be well founded, however, when the crucible slipped from the tongs and fell onto the mould, showering the forge, floor, and Raziel in droplets of molten bronze.

Dan quickly threw a bucket of water over the swearing wraith, much of which landed on the metal filled cast.

Wafting away clouds of steam, Raziel thanked him and stepped towards the cast.

“Uh, have I ruined it?” Dan asked, peering over his shoulder.

“Probably. Either that or I have.” Raziel tested the temperature of the mould, hissed and drew his hand back.

Eventually, with the aid of a pair of tongs, a hammer and a poker, they managed to separate the bronze cross from the mould. A quick dash across the street, dodging axe wielding children, and they were standing in an empty church looking at a blank wall.

“There are a couple of hooks, maybe if we…” Dan lifted the cross with difficulty and hung it in the wall. There was a click and a section of wall slid aside, the sound masking the footsteps passing by outside. In the alcove were a key and another note, detailing the mayor’s discovery of the Shadow Artefact which had imprisoned the Shadow Demons in their tomb under the Enchanted Earth a century ago.

Key in hand, they started towards the door, but suddenly Raziel held Dan back and pulled him into the shadows. His sensitive ears had picked up a conversation down the street, and he did not like what they were saying.

“Hurry, comrades. We must tear this place apart.”

“If we don’t find the Shadow Artefact Lord Zarok will have us mucking out the demons for the next millennium.”

“Don’t worry, comrade. The mayor will crack soon enough in the asylum.”

He relayed this quietly to Dan, who whispered back, “Zarok’s boiler guards. Mechanical soldiers. We’re best off avoiding them if we can, but we must get to the Shadow Artefact first.”

Once outside they kept to the shadows, relying on Raziel’s hearing and night vision to keep them out of sight of the guards, who were pillaging the place. Unsurprisingly, there was a group of them outside the mayor’s house, arguing over how to gain entry.

“We’ve got a key to the safe, but not the house. If we fight that many guards at once, we’re going to die – again. Do you have a plan?” Dan asked.

Raziel looked from the house to the guards and back again. “Yes, but you are not going to like it.”

He told him. He didn’t like it.

The raised voices of the boiler guards masked their footsteps as the pair slipped into the garden and circled around behind the trees to the back of the house. They also mostly hid the sound of muffled swearing and thumps of metal on stone as Raziel all but pushed Dan up onto the roof and climbed up behind him. Raziel stepped light-footed across the roof and dropped easily down the chimney. Dan followed cautiously, but could not bring himself to jump down the chimney until a guard noticed his silhouette against the night sky and started shooting at him.

When he climbed out of the fireplace, Raziel was already opening the safe. He removed the Shadow Artefact and handed it to him. “The soot is good. The less your armour shines the better. See you outside the town walls.”

“Wait,” Dan grabbed his wrist. “You saw how many there are. You can hear them hammering on the door. I don’t think this is a good idea. If you get hurt or worse-”

“Dan,” he said gently, “I am to all intents and purposes immortal. Do not worry about me. The important thing is keeping this out of Zarok’s hands. Now, hide.”

Dan held his gaze for a few seconds, then scrambled under the table. Raziel drew the bolts on the door and stepped back as the boiler guards burst in. He got hit a few times in the initial confusion, but the space was too small for them to shoot him and most of their blows landed upon each other.

Raziel laughed as he stepped out the door and started running when they turned to follow him. He kept the pace fairly slow until he was certain all the guards were away from the mayor’s house. Picking up speed, he ran down the narrow streets, musket balls flying around him. It was only at this point that he realised a slight flaw in his plan. His flight would allow Dan to escape unnoticed, but how would he affect his own getaway?

He pounded along a riverside street, and an idea flashed into his mind. The guards were creatures of steel and fire. They were unlikely to fare well in water. Arrows, he knew, did not maintain velocity underwater. He would have to hope the lead balls they fired would be similarly affected.

Raziel dived into the river and swam downwards as fast as he could until the dark waters hid him entirely from view. He waited until the sounds of pursuit had faded, then swam against the current to join Dan outside the town walls.


	9. The Asylum Grounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long to update, this chapter did not want to be written. I'm also sorry if it doesn't quite reach the standards of previous chapters, I just can't face staring at it any more. Hopefully, I'll be able to get the next chapter up next week.

Once reunited, the pair agreed to rescue and question the mayor. The asylum was not far from Gallows Town, but their journey was frequently interrupted by the passage of boiler guards along the main road. After the fifth time of diving into a ditch to avoid them, it was decided that a walk across country would be far more agreeable.

The Asylum was surrounded by what were probably usually pleasant manicured gardens, but the hedge maze had been warped by Zarok’s magic into a death trap. Raziel was completely unsurprised when the gates swung closed of their own volition and refused to open no matter how much Dan pulled at them.

“We are trying to get in, not out. In my experience, an egress will appear when one is required.”

Dan was still reluctant to go far, convinced the topiary animals were watching him, but brightened up when he saw a monk up ahead. He hurried forwards. “Good evening, brother. We were looking for a gentleman who has recently been admitted to- aargh!”

The monk turned and swung his spade at him. He may have nursed the inmates here in life, but this corpse was another one of Zarok’s minions. Dan offered up a quick prayer as he swung his sword to lay him once more to rest.

Not much farther in, Dan’s fears proved to be well founded as a topiary dragon turned its head to bite him. Jumping out of its way and running down a side passage, they came before a large face carved into a wall, as different from a gargoyle as a dragon from a frog.

The face opened its mouth and spoke. “Greetings, Sir Forteque, Lord Raziel. My name is Jack of the Green. I am the master of riddles and this maze is my domain. You are free to leave, but only after you have solved four riddles – puzzles so fiendishly difficult, so perplexingly complex, that no man has ever solved them – ha ha ha. Now, try my first riddle: At night they come without being fetched, by day they are lost without being stolen.”

“Darkness, the moon, stars? Is it stars?” Raziel asked.

“The answer to my riddle lies within the garden,” Jack of the Green answered cryptically, and then would say no more.

“I think I’ve got it. Come on, Raz.” Dan led him back to the entrance, ducking once more around the living dragon shrub which lay at the point where the paths met.

“See, there’s a little topiary star next to the horse.” Dan picked it up and brought it back to Jack.

Jack looked at the star in his hand. “Well done, sir knight, but you will that the star riddle was but a trifle – I always like to start with an easy one. You will not find my next conundrum so simple: I live for the laughter, I live for the crowd. Without them I am nothing.”

 

“Any ideas?” Dan asked as they wandered around the maze, occasionally despatching zombie monks.

“Actor?” Raziel suggested. “My sire was very keen on the theatre. He took us all the time as fledglings. Perhaps there is a bandstand or outdoor theatre here?”

“Perhaps, I- What the hell? Please tell me a bush shaped like Zarok didn’t just shoot a fireball at me.”

“Given I have never seen Zarok, I cannot answer that, but I do advocate for avoiding homicidal topiary.”

Taking another route, they found a small walled garden which had ‘puzzle’ written all over it. A topiary clown stood in the centre of four stone slabs, each with a theatre mask painted on either side.

“The sad faces point towards it and the happy ones away. I will give you three guesses as to what we are supposed to do.”

Dan hauled the closest one around on its pivot, finding it turned easily for its weight. Raziel did the same with the slab opposite.

“This is less difficult than I expected,” he said as he started turning the final stone. A grating noise of stone against metal made him look up to see the first slab turn back to its original position. Dan growled and swivelled it back to face the clown, then swore as another one turned away.

Raziel grabbed hold of the one nearest him when it started to move, his feet leaving furrows in the earth as he tried to hold it back and got helplessly carried with it.

A few more minutes of rushing around the small area and cursing, they were still no closer to a solution. Raziel stood back and took stock of the situation. “Let us think about this. The slabs only turn clockwise, the one in the eastern corner turns fastest and the one to the north turns the most slowly, yet even working from north to east, we are still too slow to complete the puzzle. Hmm, can they ever turn anticlockwise?”

He rotated a slab so it stood at ninety degrees to the clown. If it turned clockwise again, the smiling mask would face the clown. He watched, counting under his breath. The eastern stone turned, the western stone turned, the northern stone turned, but this one stayed resolutely still.

“Dan,” he said, “I have an idea.”

Several minutes later all the slabs were a quarter turn away from the clown. “Now!” Raziel shouted and turned the northern stone, then ran to the next. Opposite him, Dan did the same and they rotated the final stones almost in synchrony. An eerie laugh echoed around the garden as all four smiling masks faced the clown and moved no more.

 

Jack’s next riddle was in the form of a poem,

_Skin like the sea,_

_A face like a tree,_

_A great beast I be,_

_Yet vermin frighten me._

Raziel looked puzzled, but Dan grinned. “That old chestnut,” he whispered, once he judged they were out of earshot. “It’s an elephant. Everyone knows they’re scared of mice.”

Raziel did not know what an elephant was, as they were not found in Nosgoth, but decided that if Dan was not worried, he had no reason to be. Finding a mouse involved an undignified search in the undergrowth and a not insignificant amount of cursing. It was a blessing that Raziel had retained some of his vampiric abilities to control animals, and could calm the little shivering creature in his claws.

He stroked its little ears and murmured to it as he had often done to the bats which had colonised every tower in his stronghold. It reacted just the same as they had, pressing its cold little nose against him and curling up, quite contented.

Dan stifled a chuckle at the tough, done-everything-hated-everything wraith all but cuddling the tiny ball of fur. This journey was revealing hidden depths in the both of them.

The next task was to find something which resembled an elephant. The pair trekked through the maze, Dan in the lead. They ran across several undead monks, which Dan fought without thinking while Raziel hung back, kicking at the odd one which slipped past the knight. Often they hit dead ends and had to double back, but eventually they came to a long narrow green. A cat mewled close by and the mouse startled. Raziel made quiet shushing noises and looked around.

There were no cats, no living creatures of any kind that he could see, but two lines of freshly dug graves stretched away from them. Clearly, this was what passed for the asylum’s graveyard. At the end, beside the wall, was another topiary creature. Presumably, this great, long snouted beast was an elephant.

Raziel stepped forward and held up the mouse, then jumped back quickly when an ear-splitting trumpeting emanated from the leafy monster, and positively ran as it reared.

Dan caught up quickly, torn between amusement and concern. “It’s alright. It just kicked the wall and went still. Made a right mess of the wall, though.”

Raziel slowed down. “Since when were you the calm, collected one?” He shook his head, let the mouse run off into the undergrowth, and followed Dan back towards Jack of the Green.

 

“I tolerate the moon and stars, I can’t abide the sun. Banish me with torchlight and you’ll see me turn and run.”

Another rhyming riddle, this one a puzzle to the pair. Raziel started throwing ideas around as they walked, none of which sounded very convincing. “Shadows? No. They require the light. Vampires? Demons?”

“If there are any vampires here, you’re on your own.”

“If there are any vampires here, I may be able to return to Nosgoth.”

Their footsteps eventually took them back to the topiary elephant. Raziel was still wary, but stepped through the newly made hole in the wall to explore on the other side.

 

“Ah, another trap,” Raziel said without emotion when they reached a metal grille covering a hole in the ground. “Which of us should go first?”

“Together?” Dan asked.

Raziel nodded and took his hand, and they stepped forward. The trapdoor opened beneath them and dropped the pair into a darkened underground chamber which itself contained another, smaller stone structure. A stained glass window lay in the centre of three of the walls of the smaller chamber and an open doorway on the fourth. Around the outer chamber were three large stone blocks, a flaming torch in the centre of each.

“Darkness!” Dan shouted. “Chased away by torchlight! Look at the pictures in the stained glass, don’t they look like fire? I think we need to move the torches to the windows.”

Raziel seemed less than thrilled by this news. “Moving blocks,” he muttered, “Why does everything come down to moving bloody blocks around?” Nevertheless, he took hold of the nearest stone and moved it where Dan directed.

When all three windows were illuminated by flames, a glowing circle sprung up from the centre of the small room. Hesitantly, they stepped on it and were launched into the air, out of the trapdoor, and back into the garden.

Before they could even begin to get their bearings and return to Jack of the Green, his voice filled the air. “Blast you! It took me ages to come up with that Darkness one! Very well, outrageous as it seems, my vast intellect has been matched by your badly decomposed brains. I grant you free passage through my maze – find your own way out.”

“Your ‘massive intellect’?” Raziel was incensed. “What is outrageous is that your pathetically simple questions have been answered, and you now choose not to honour our bargain, but to punish the very action you asked of us in the first place. Of all the shameless hypocrisy…”

Dan decided not to waste any more of their time by trading insults. Towing the still complaining wraith behind him, he started navigating his way through this new area of the maze.

They stopped at a large area paved in a chequerboard pattern where four outlandish coloured man-sized chessmen moved serenely.

“Do you play?” Dan asked.

“Not for many centuries. In recent years, I have gained a certain sympathy for the pawns.”

Dan could tell when not to pursue a train of conversation. He looked at the board and said, “Not that it matters, I think this puzzle is just a matter of matching colours. Nothing that hard.”

 

Indeed, herding the chessmen onto their matching coloured square was not difficult, or at least it would not have been, had they not kept getting in one another’s way.

“You’re going to have to move the queen out of my way. The bishop only moves diagonally.”

“Very well, if you will give me a chance to get out from between them this time.”

By degrees and with much bickering, the four chess pieces were moved to their correct spaces on the board. Once they were in position, the central square opened, giving them an ingress into the asylum.


	10. Inside the Asylum

The trapdoor dropped them into the undercroft, where the bodies of the inmates had been interred for decades. Woken by Zarok’s spell, they wasted no time in attacking the intruders. Zombies fell before them like corn before the scythe, but still more came to take their place. Raziel thought of their first meeting, when Dan had unwittingly rescued him from a similar situation, but there was no help for them now. The rooms were small with no place to run, only an endless stream of undead adversaries. Raziel threw some back with telekinesis, knocking them into the ones behind, but that did little to ease the press of mouldering bodies. The only thing they could do was stand and fight, and hope the asylum’s supply of zombies would soon run out.

There must have been more than a hundred corpses lying on the floor by the time they reached the stairs to the asylum proper. It seemed the monks had decided their vows did not cover this situation and had fled, leaving the inmates to their own devices.

Most were harmless and in need of rescue from their undead former peers, but a large round room housed the more violent inmates. Dan raised his sword as they approached, but Raziel stopped him. “These people are no different to the villagers. If they did not deserve death for something they could not help, then neither do those before us.”

Dan considered his statement, then sheathed his sword, somewhat surprised at Raziel’s empathy and more than a little ashamed at his own lack of it. Not that he had much time to ponder upon the morality of the situation, as – innocent or not – they were still advancing.

It was very much like the village, Dan decided as he ran around the room, strait-jacketed figures in close pursuit. As with the axe wielding child, the laughter was by far the worst part of the experience, at least if he stayed out of their reach. Raziel had not been quite so fortunate – one had bitten his hand and almost made him rethink his policy of nonviolence.

Finally finding a door that opened, they ran through and slammed it behind them. There was a dull thunk of bodies hitting wood, but the door held. The room they found themselves in contained a drainage gulley, a wooden table, and a barred cell. The man inside could only have been the mayor. He looked to be at least twice the weight of any of the asylum’s other inhabitant and wore bright clothes instead of the plain white woollen garb they had so far seen.

Raziel picked up the rune on the table. “It does not strike me as wise to leave the key to his escape so near at hand. Is there some trick here?”

“No, Zarok just likes tormenting people. Putting the key in sight but out of reach is his style.”

The mayor was quick to thank them once the door was open. “By ‘eck, am I glad to see you! That Zarok tried to force me to hand over the Shadow Artefact – he means to unleash the Demons from their tomb under the Enchanted Forest. But I said to him, I said, ‘You can’t touch me, you lanky windbag, I’m the mayor’. Aye, that told him…”

Raziel stifled a snort. Zarok was starting to sound like much less of a threat.

The mayor continued, “But then he had me locked up in here with all these nutters… Oh, it’s terrible – I haven’t managed to get a word of sense out of anyone in weeks!”

“Tell me about it,” Dan muttered. Goodness knew what kind of an idea Raziel had of Gallowmere from the reception he had received.

“Right, well, I’ll see myself out, thanks. You two have a good look around, Zarok’s left some stuff lying around that I think you might find useful.”

“Are you certain?” Raziel asked, following him out of the cell. “The night is full of dangers, and I doubt your mayorship will be any protection from them.”

“Oh, aye, lad. Don’t you worry about me, just see to it that Zarok’s stopped.”

Raziel watched the mayor amble out, then turned to Dan, who pocketed the amber stone he had been examining and said, “Before we do anything else, I’d like to make sure the Shadow Demons really are safely locked up. We’d look a bit silly rushing in to fight Zarok only to find out he’s got an army with him.”

Raziel could see the sense in that. “Lead on, good knight.”


	11. The Enchanted Earth

The forests in Gallowmere were old and none more so than the one which stood atop the Enchanted Earth, drawing up its magic and putting forth vegetable giants. Raziel had seen a living land before and had thought he had seen all of nature’s wonders, but the sight took his breath away. The trees seemed to touch the clouds, their leafy branches blocking out the moon and stars, but not robbing the forest floor of light. Not even Dan’s eye struggled to see the perfumed flowers as large as a man, the birds fluttering in the canopy, the myriad beetles which took to the wing as they strode through knee high ferns.

Raziel was so taken, he didn’t think to look at the forest floor and the first he knew of the dragon toads was an acid dart coming at him from ground level. Dan tried, without success, to scare them away, or failing that to kill a few. Raziel watched in amusement as he flailed his sword at the small, mobile targets, which were doing a far better job of hitting him. Once it became clear he had lost both the battle and his dignity, Dan decided to cut his losses and ran down the grassy track with the angry amphibians in hot pursuit. He splashed ankle deep through a small pond, picking up a few more toads in the process. He turned onto another branch of the track, ran up a couple of steps cut into a tree stump and crouched behind his shield until the volley of darts stopped.

Raziel joined him a few minutes later, teasing words dying as he looked at the contraption behind him. “Now where does this go?” he wondered, reaching up to the ropes and pulleys above the wooden platform. His claws clacked on the surface and it creaked, swayed, and began moving up the incline.

Dan hurriedly jumped aboard and looked down at the ever-receding ground. “Looks like we’re going to find out, and I don’t think we’re going to like it- ohh.” He groaned as the platform swayed beneath him and tightened his grip on the hanging ropes. “This can’t be safe.”

The platform shuddered to a halt and he practically leapt onto the comparatively stable surface of one of the forest’s giant pines, the top of which had been removed long ago. Sitting on top was a nest, around five metres across in this land of giants. In it were three eggs, half an arm’s span in diameter, but further examination was curtailed by an angry screech and a pair of clawed feet heading towards them at speed. The pair threw themselves down to avoid talons the size of spears; Raziel onto the straw and twigs of the nest, Dan with a crunch onto an egg.

Instead of the mess he had expected, the shards of eggshell surrounded an Earth Rune. Raziel stared at it. “How does a roc egg produce _that_?”

“Probably put there by a witch. Dragon birds are very protective of their eggs, so they make good guards.”

“Then I suggest we take it and leave before it swoops again.”

Dan looked at the waiting platform and gulped.

 

 

Once they were safely back on terra firma, they set back along the path until they came to a foreboding stone doorway. Red lightning sprung up at the top of the steps as they approached, barring entry.

Dan noted the strange shaped impression on one of the pillars, then followed Raziel along a thinner path, barely a pig track amongst the foliage. At the end was an old wooden gate with the familiar claw by its side. Dan placed the rune key into its grasp and the gate swung open.

Almost as soon as they entered the little clearing, a hoarse voice spoke out. “None shall enter. The Shadow Demons are entombed within, separated from the world of goodness and light until the earth cracks open. No one, not even the dark lord Zarok can release them without the Shadow Artefact. Leave now or share their doom.”

“That is certainly a relief,” Raziel said to the gargoyle. “We shall leave you to your vigil. Dan- Dan!”

The skeletal knight had put the Shadow Artefact in place and was leaning in through the open doors. At Raziel’s voice he jumped, lost his grip on the doorcase, and fell into the tomb, hitting the ground with a thump that made Raziel wince.

“Dan? Are you hurt?”

“I’ll live. Metaphorically speaking. But I think I’m stuck.”

The gargoyle cackled. “He’ll never get out of there.”

“Shut up!” Raziel snapped.

“I only said…”

“Not you, Dan. Are there any other rooms?”

“Uh, there’s a couple of gates. One looks like the way out and there’s a demon-cat-head thing behind the other one that looks like it would fit in that pillar by the doorway with the lightning, but there’s no way of opening them.”

“Alright, describe the room you are in.”

“There’s- there’s a big circular thing in the middle. Around it are four pressure plates with different pictures on. There’s a spiral, a thing that sort of looks like a puff of wind or like a sideways tree. This one has four sort of wobbly lines on it and this one’s a fire. Oh, wait, there’s a mural on the wall. It’s just a picture of the room, but there’s a picture of a demon in the middle. What the hell does that mean? What do I do?”

“Calm down. This is a puzzle not well suited to trial and error. There are dozens of combinations and no guarantee that an incorrect answer will not prove fatal. Now tell me about the mural.”

“It’s above the fire symbol, but it’s just the same as what’s on the ground, except the demon in the middle. There’s no clue, it’s no help.”

Raziel could hear the panic in his voice. “Do not touch anything. I’m coming down.”

 

Raziel landed lightly on his feet and joined Dan by the mural. He studied it in silence for a moment, then said, “Fire, Earth, Water, Wind. Simple.”

As he went to press them, Dan asked, “How the hell did you figure that out?”

“Two lines of reasoning lead to the same conclusion. First, they are in the order of reading, top to bottom, left to right. If that is not convincing enough to stake your life on, look at the symbols’ orientation. Fire is upright. The spiral is a quarter turn clockwise from where it should be. The water is the same, but would remain so if inverted. Wind is upside down. I am better at pictures than words,” he said to Dan’s disbelieving look.

Once the slabs had been depressed the gates opened, but before the pair had time to celebrate the central dome cracked apart and the Shadow Demons burst forth. Hundreds of demons poured out of the earth, thick as a swarm of bees. Black scales and wings and claws shifted places in the flickering light as they fled their prison.

The horde vanished, a single figure remained in the centre of the room, crouched, head bowed. Its wings were black, but the feathers marked it out as more angel than demon. Raziel stepped forwards, terrified he was right, but more terrified he was wrong, surely it couldn’t be… “Janos,” he said softly.

The head rose and golden eyes met his gaze. “Raziel?” Janos whispered and slumped. Raziel could see his wounds clearly now, his blood flowing from them and mingling with the demons’ black ichor. No wonder he was weak. He put one arm over his shoulders and tried to help him stand, but Janos almost fell to the floor under his own weight.

“Dan, I need your help.” Dan slipped the Shadow Talisman into his tunic and lifted Janos’ other arm. Even with the added support, the height difference and Janos’ weakened state made even the short walk to the exit a trial.

Their welcome back to the living world was far from friendly. “What have you done?” the gargoyle shouted at them. “Once again the Shadow Demons are wreaking havoc across the land and it’s all thanks to you! The single most destructive and wretched creatures in the history of the world and you’ve given them an early parole. They will be heading for the ruins of King Peregrine’s Castle – Gallowmere is domed!”

Not wanting a further ear bashing, Dan wandered over to the gate while Raziel examined Janos’ wounds. This was no place to stay. They had to find cover before they were noticed by the Shadow Demons prowling the forest. The trees and underbush were silent now, the small animals all hiding from the monsters he had freed. Visibility was poor, but there was nothing much to see in any case, just more plants, stones, and – a cauldron. It was half hidden by the foliage around the glade and a demon stalked the ground around it, but it meant there was a witch here. Witches meant magic and medicine. They needed a witch.

Dan was loath to interrupt the whispered conversation which had sprung up in his brief absence, but he knew their primary concern had to be Janos’ safety. “Uh, there’s a witch’s den not far from here. If you think you can walk it, sir?”

Janos’ expression was blank for a moment as he mentally inserted the missing vowels into the sentence, then he shook his head. “I fear it may take some time to regain my strength. I would not be offended if you went on ahead.”

It was difficult to tell who spoke first. Dan’s “We’re not leaving you” melded into Raziel’s “I’m not losing you again”. They once again took Janos’ weight and began walking through the woodland.

Most of the Shadow Demons were already far away, but one of the stragglers looked up at the sound of their footsteps and began racing towards them. Dan and Raziel looked to one another and made an instant, mutual decision. They put a hand under each shoulder, lifted Janos up, and ran. The moment they reached the glade, Raziel threw the witch talisman into the cauldron, summoning the witch in a shower of sparks.

“Who has summoned the Witch of the Forest?” She looked at her visitors for a moment, threw a fireball at the demon, then answered her own question as it ran away whimpering. “Oh, it is you, Sir Fortesque. Forgive me, my lord. I have never met a real hero…” She started cackling, her skinny frame bent over almost double in her mirth.

“Get on with it,” Dan growled. “We’ve got an injured man her. Now are you going to help us or just laugh at me?”

The witch sobered. “Ahem, forgive me, just an old lady’s little joke.” She studied Janos in the light of the fire for several seconds. “An Ancient Vampire, I see. Yes, I can heal his wounds, but I will need seven pieces of amber from the ants’ nest. Are you willing to get them for me?”

Dan didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

He almost regretted his hastiness when green lightning arced from the witch’s hands towards him, too fast to dodge.

“What have you done to him?” Raziel demanded from somewhere above him.

“Sorry, didn’t I mention I’d have to shrink him to the size of an insect? Now, let’s get your friend inside.”

Abandoned for the moment and with no other course open to him, Dan entered the anthill.


	12. The Ants' Nest

Once Dan stepped away from the entrance, velvet rustling darkness engulfed him. The smell of earth was an unpleasant reminder of the grave, of his fate if he should fail. Cautiously, he felt his way along the tunnel, the circle of daylight receding behind him. The passageway turned to the right and the daylight disappeared entirely, but the darkness did not become more complete. Unsure if the faint blue light ahead was real or a trick of his mind, he edged towards it, sword drawn.

The light was coming from a plate of blue crystal covering a small chamber, inside which was an indistinct figure. He shattered the crystal with his hilt and stepped back as a blue figure flew out. Dan had never seen a fairy before, but he had imagined them to be rather prettier.

The dumpy, gauzy winged figure hovered at his head height and spoke in a voice which brought to mind fungus more than flowers. “Thank you for releasing me, sir. My people wish only to live our lives in blissful harmony with nature, but alas the wicked Ant Queen has many of my people imprisoned. Rescue my people, Mr Fortesque, and you will be richly rewarded."

The fairy raised a hand and huge glowing insects flew towards them, then started circling Dan. He yelped and raised his hands, but the fairy explained, “These fireflies are my friends; they will light your was through the darkness below.”

“Err, thanks,” Dan mumbled as the fairy sped for the surface. He scrambled down the incline, the descent made far less treacherous by the fireflies’ light, and into the anthill proper.

He had not even reached flat ground before the first attack. Soldier ants, attracted by the light, approached at speed, their mandibles long as knives and glistening.

Dan had never liked insects much. When they were the size of wolfhounds, he liked them even less. He stabbed downwards and impaled the first soldier’s head on his sword. The one next to it got kicked with an iron boot, then slashed at madly until it stopped moving. Stepping over the bodies, he followed a fleeing worker along the branching tunnels.

It led him to a large chamber where ants scurried to and fro, carrying pupae deeper into the mound. A glint of gold in the light drew his attention to a piece of amber in an ant’s jaws. He strode between the milling insects towards his prey. A few sword strokes and the ant was dead on the ground, and the first piece of amber was his.

The clacking of mandibles alerted him to the approach of more soldiers, and he ran deeper into the mound. The anthill was a maze. All passages looked the same and branched and joined at random. Hurrying down one, he noticed another blue crystal set into the wall. Once again he shattered it, releasing the fairy trapped inside.

Unfortunately, the sound alerted more soldier ants to his presence. Fortunately, one of them was carrying a piece of amber. There were too many of them for him to use any finesse, he just swung his sword at the nearest ants and jumped away from slashing mandibles. As soon as the piece of amber fell from the ant’s jaws, he picked it up and ran.

Pebbles and sand shifted under his feet as he dashed ever further into the mound, only stopping to shatter more tell-tale blue crystals and fleeing before the soldier ants could arrive. A snakestone lying at an intersection gave him some sense of direction, but it was still by sheer luck that he blundered into the nursery. A few workers dropped their tasks and started towards him, but Dan had spotted the pieces of amber stowed between the pupating larvae. He sprinted forwards, gathered up the amber, and was out into the next tunnel before any of them reached him.

The sounds of pursuit faded and he laughed triumphantly, just as the tunnel began to slope down, the incline getting steeper faster than he could slow down. Dan started skidding in an attempt to stop, overbalanced, and made the rest of the painful journey on his back.

When he did reach the bottom, he pushed himself up on his elbows and looked up at the glistening bulk of the Ant Queen. Mirrored eyes stared down at him, full of loathing. There was a hiss and a shriek, and he rolled sideways moments before a sizzling globule of acid hit the spot where he had been lying. He scrambled to his feet and drew his sword as the soldier ants approached. Dozens of then streamed into the chamber, prepared to fight and die to defend their mother. More would be on their way, he knew. There was only one way to win this battle.

Dan raced towards the queen, dodging around the ants which tried to block his way. She was the size of a house, surely he couldn’t- no, this wasn’t a case of can’t it was a case of must. He drove his sword up into the egg-swollen abdomen in what he hoped was a killing blow.

He was thrown aside by the queen’s bulk, sword cutting through chitin and flesh as it was torn free. The Ant Queen screeched again and crumpled onto the floor. She was badly wounded, but not fatally and the soldiers were closing in. He scrambled up the side if the queen’s abdomen, avoiding thrashing legs and struck down into the top of her body, his sword going in almost to the hilt. Pulling it out caused the yellow blood which had been seeping out of the wound to pour out in a stream, the Ant Queen’s strength and life fading by the second.

It was clear the moment her magic was broken. A shimmering blue haze surrounded Dan and transported him out of the mound and into the witch’s cottage. Janos was lying on a narrow bed, Raziel on a chair by his side. The witch was bustling about with herbs and bandages, but stopped when she saw him.

“Bless me, if it isn’t Daniel, Lord of the Ants.” Before he could reply another burst of green lightning restored him to his proper size.

He passed her the amber with bad grace and walked towards Janos’ bedside. “How is he?” he asked.

“Somewhat disorientated, but the witch managed to stem the bleeding.” Raziel spoke quietly, voice heavy with emotion.

The sound roused Janos, who looked around in confusion, focused on a point a few inches behind Raziel’s head, and murmurer, “Ah, fairies. Very ugly fairies.” His eyes slid closed again.

Raziel gave Dan a ‘see what I mean?’ look, then spun around suddenly when a voice behind him said, “You have helped to free all the fairy people from the clutches of the filthy ant scum.”

They both stared as the fairy produced a goblet similar to the one Raziel had found in the graveyard, but this one was almost half full of the purple liquid. Dan reached for the one which should still be in his armour and found it was gone. “This is the Chalice of Souls,” the fairy said. “If you can fill it with enough souls, it will grant you passage to the Hall of Heroes when you die. Take it with you when you face Zarok, it could help you out.”

“Out of my way, out of my way.” The witch waved skeleton, wraith and fairy aside. “And you drink this.” She gave Janos a green potion which somehow glowed gold and smelled of rotten cabbage. He made a face, but looked a little more alert after drinking it.

The witch took the empty cup away and turned to her three less welcome guests. “You know the rules, no fairies in the house. And as for you two, haven’t you got a world to save?”

“But Janos-” Raziel began.

“Will still be here if you get back.”

A hundred arguments raced through his head – _he needs me, I owe him, and how can I trust you anyway?_ – but he knew they were all based on selfishness. Honour and duty pressed him towards another path. He was about to agree reluctantly when Janos called to him softly.

Raziel was at his side in an instant. “I will gladly stay if you wish it.”

Janos smiled fondly and shook his head. “Take my sword. I think you will have more of a use for it than I in the near future.”

“But I-”

Janos silenced him. “The fate of any world is more important than one man. I am certain I shall be well looked after, and I believe Captain Fortesque needs you.”

Janos was right. He usually was. Raziel took the sword – Vorador’s work, but much shorted and plainer than the Reaver – told him to stay safe, and joined Dan outside.

Dan did not look happy. “I’ve asked the witch for directions and it looks like we’re travelling through demon country. If we follow the river to the floodlands, we might get to Zarok in time. If not…” There was no need to finish that sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did actual research for this chapter and not even the avoiding writing type of research. Turns out ant ‘blood’ is called hemolymph, is green or yellow and is mostly in one chamber in the upper abdomen, so the game got it right by making the ants bleed yellow. (I spent time finding this out, so you’ve got to read it.)


	13. Shadow Demon Territory

The talisman Dan had picked up in the tomb fitted easily into the stone pillar. The lightning dissipated, revealing a vision of hell. Tongues of flame rose up from the depths of a pit, over which floated a large stone slab without any visible means of support.

“When we step on it, do you think it will crumble, plummet, or spawn demons?” Raziel asked conversationally.

“Why did you have to say that?” Nevertheless, Dan jumped onto the slab with barely any hesitation. Raziel followed suit and the stone began to rise.

After a few uneventful moments, he turned to Raziel. “This isn’t so bad. Why do you always have to be so cynical – oh shit!”

“Ah, it _is_ demons,” Raziel said in calm resignation as two harpies rose from the depths of the pit. He raised his sword in readiness, but instead of swooping down on them as expected, they rained down missiles fabricated by their own dark magic.

Dan immediately drew his crossbow and began to span it, trusting Raziel to cover him. The wraith loosed his own telekinetic attacks at the demons, more as a distraction than from any real belief he could harm them. As their attention turned to him, a thought struck him. He pointed his sword at the closest demon, wondering if it was imbued with the same magic as the Reaver. Magic flowed from him into the blade and gathered there. A moment’s pause and the invisible bolt coursed towards its target. This time, the demon let out an ululation of pain as it struggled to make up the height lost by the blow.

Raziel felt a small surge of hope in his chest, but it was soon dispelled by its partner’s retaliation. He turned in time to see, but not stop, the crackling ball of energy heading towards him. When it struck, there was no room for anything in his mind but the pain, dulling all other senses and threatening oblivion. Time ceased to exist, along with reality, but slowly the pain ebbed and thought returned, a weak thing, reminding him of the last time he had felt pain like this. Centuries ago, it seemed, when he had fought Kain in the chronoplast, when he believed his destiny was nothing more than vengeance.

Reality came back slowly, first the heat of the rock beneath him, then the sounds; the clink of metal, the thumps, the thuds, the screams. Raziel forced his eyes open to see Dan feverishly reloading his crossbow in time to shoot a demon then dodge its partner’s attacks. One fell even as he watched.

Raziel grasped his sword and struggled upright, determined to re-join the fight, but the surface lurched beneath him and began to tip. This was not the dizziness that came with injury, the platform was truly tilting. He dug his claws into the rock and grabbed hold of Dan as he skidded down, sabatons giving him no grip on the polished surface. The knight held on to him as the incline increased, threatening to tip them both off as Raziel’s claws left grooves in the stone as they slid towards the edge.

Raziel considered the possibility of gliding back down to the entrance with Dan in tow and wondered quite how badly he would take it. Very, he decided.

He was saved from having to find out by the platform righting itself again. Seemingly angry that it had failed to remove them, the demon summoned rocks and boulders to drop on them.

Crouching under Dan’s shield that was really barely large enough to protect one person, Raziel threw his own magic at the demon, knocking it into the path of its own projectiles. The crunch of breaking bone was enough to make him wince as the demon’s wings crumpled and it fell into the fiery abyss. A hand rose unconsciously to his own, then he shook his head and lowered it, pushing the dark thoughts from his mind.

Raziel was grateful for Dan’s steadying hand as he stepped off the platform and onto another wooden walkway high amongst the trees. It was only when Dan did not let go as they made their way along the swaying rope bridge that he realised it was not purely for his benefit. Dan’s legs shook with every step and his grip tightened whenever the bridge moved. In truth, he did not mind the presence of the bony hand in his. The forest had changed since the Shadow Demons’ release, become darker, more threatening. There was no longer any birdsong, but the silence of a hunter on the prowl. Raziel did not appreciate being prey.

The walkways and bridges amongst the trees led them to the river and brought them to the ground without incident, but the forest floor was filled with even more danger. They walked downstream through waist high, clinging bracken, stopping often whenever Raziel heard something over the sound of the water.

Once, a startled partridge flew out of the foliage in front of them in a confusion of feathers. They had barely recovered from the shock and re-sheathed their weapons when a squawk rang out and was abruptly cut off. Without any words being spoken, the pace picked up a good deal after that.

Several times they hid in the undergrowth when a wandering demon got too close. Muscles tensed, for once glad they had no need for breath, they crouched in silence, hands resting upon hilts, ready to draw their weapons if they were sighted. Each time the demon passed them by, but cost them time they could ill afford to lose as they made their way towards the floodlands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sabatons = metal shoes in a suit of armour. Who says fanfic isn’t educational?


	14. Pools of the Ancient Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which the Discworld references go from subtle to overt. I’ve got to justify my username somehow.

Wading birds had deserted the marshes, leaving only the corvids which crowed and took flight at the adventurers’ approach. Their pace flagged in the sucking mud and shifting sands of the poorly delineated shore, and Dan’s slowed further at the sight of ragged flags and torn standards bearing the crest of King Peregrine. He stopped altogether in the shadow of a crumbling watchtower and Raziel finally paid attention to his stance, the little movements which betrayed his feelings.

He laid a clawed hand on his arm. “Dan, what is this place? Why do you fear it so?”

He was silent for half a minute, then said so quietly only a vampire could hear, “I died here.”

“Oh.” Raziel turned to look at him properly, mentally preparing a comforting speech, but stopped when he continued.

“Not just that, I… I let everyone down. Hundreds of men killed because I didn’t know how to lead them. How man died because of my lies? Bodies never found because of the quicksand and the tides. And now that bastard doesn’t even let them rest in peace.”

Raziel followed Dan’s gaze across the barren landscape and saw the suits of rusted armour marching stiffly across the sandbanks, half-mummifies corpses crawling through the silt, skeletons picked clean by fish and crows wielding the sword and shield which had not saved them in life. He increased his grip on Dan protectively. “You did what you could, and you continue to do so. We must fight them, but we shall also avenge them. I will not let you fall here again.”

Dan took what, if he had been living, would have been a deep, shaky breath and nodded. He led the way towards a sunken stone walkway, which in richer times had been part of a seasonal dock in the flood times. Now, silt had clogged the channels and made the place inaccessible to traders, but a small boat was still moored beyond the tower. As they approached, its owner hailed them in a voice like lead.

“Greetings, strangers. I am the Boat Man – it is I who ferry lost soul on their final journey to the Land of the Dead. But hold, have we not met before? Sir Daniel Fortesque! Not you too? And you, Raziel? I would have thought if anyone was immune to Zarok’s meddling, it would have been you. Thanks to him I’m up to my eye sockets in lost souls who’ve woken from the eternal sleep – business hasn’t been this brisk since before they invented sanitation.”

Raziel nodded in sympathy. “It makes the fall of Kain’s empire look almost pleasant.”

“At least you seem to have help for this one. Susan was supposed to be coming with me, but dropped out at the last minute, something to do with her grandfather. Young people these days.” The Boat Man heaved a sigh like the breeze through a forgotten tomb. “Look, Raziel, you know the ropes. If you help me gather up a boatload of eight lost souls and bring them here, I’ll drop you both off at the sunken town of Mellowmede. How does that sound?”

“Excellent, thank you. Dan, would you prefer to stay here, or…”

“No, no, I’m coming,” Dan said quickly. Wandering through a battlefield with Raziel sounded slightly better than being left alone with the Boat Man.

As they walked away, Dan said quietly, “I think we’ve been had on this deal. The fee’s usually tuppence.”

“Oh, and you have some loose change on you?”

“Well, no, but it’s the principle of the thing. What did he mean by ‘You know the ropes’?”

“In Nosgoth I was once a reaver of souls, servant of a dark god. Thankfully, those days are over.” It was somehow easier to tell Dan these things, despite, or perhaps because he came from such a different world, one with no slavery and little war. It was easy to envy him if he ignored the way he flinched at every unexpected sound from the marshes. Raziel continued talking, hoping to distract the knight somewhat from their situation, but was interrupted by a series of rusty creaks as a heavy suit of armour propelled itself towards them.

He drew his sword, but Dan said, “Don’t bother. That armour was made to withstand demons. A sword won’t even dent it.”

They backed away, wary of the sucking mud which posed as much of a danger as any of Zarok’s minions. Raziel contemplated jumping to the nearest sandbank, but reluctantly accepted that Dan would not manage it. The pursuing knight was not fast. If there was some way of knocking it aside, they would have a clear run to the battleground proper. He threw a telekinetic bolt at it, causing it to stagger slightly. Raziel deflated. “I hoped that would be more effective- Wait!”

Too late, Dan was already speeding towards his target. He treated it like a training dummy, hitting high to make it stagger, pushing it before it regained its balance, then ducking the counterattack. On the second push, the knight’s foot disappeared into a hidden pool of quicksand, causing it to topple and fall into the turgid water.

Raziel hurried over, panic fuelled upbraidings withering when he saw how Dan was shaking. “Dan?” He was careful to step into his line of vision before placing a hand on his shoulder.

“An old shield mate?” he asked.

Dan nodded and walked with him further into the marshes. Wisps of mist played about their feet and drew a haze across the battlefield. It confused the senses and turned distant figures into nightmares, but allowed them to sneak past the heavy knights without detection.

A sword wielding skeleton dragging itself from the mire was not so easily fooled. It evaded the initial sweep of Raziel’s sword, then ignored him in place of its former captain. Was it a desire for vengeance or Zarok’s spell that drove the attack? Dan could not say, but knew his guilt would play the fight out over and over in his head; the fury behind the blank skull, the sickening crunch as Raziel’s sword connected with its cranium.

As the skeleton crumpled, Raziel spotted beyond its shoulder a brighter patch in the murk. A human soul still clad in the memory of armour floated a few feet above the battlefield. Raziel lowered his cowl and, as gently as he could, drew it towards him and into the next realm.

Dan looked a little uncomfortable, but said nothing as they continued on their way.

 

Another few minutes’ walking and they found a soul hovered over the turgid water several metres beyond the sandbank. Raziel tried to draw it closer, but it was still beyond his reach. He sighed. “It appears we shall have to swim for this one.”

“Um, I can’t swim.”

Raziel resisted the urge to scream. They were in a marsh and Dan couldn’t swim. They were going to be taken by boat to a bloody sunken town and Dan couldn’t bloody swim. “Stay here,” he snapped and jumped into the cold, muddy waters.

Reaching the lost soul was a simple matter, as was treading water while he consumed it. The difficulty came when he tried to drag himself back onto the sandbank. The silt sucked at his feet, not supporting him enough to stand. He reached a muddy claw out to Dan. “Would you mind?”

The knight turned towards him and pulled the wraith back onto comparatively dry land.

“What were you looking at?” Raziel asked, straining to make out shapes through the mist.

Dan thought quickly, scanning their surroundings. He did not want to admit that seeing Raziel eat still disturbed him, all the more so in the current circumstances. Distant spikes swam into focus, along with too-recent-seeming memories. “Looks like some of the walls to our encampment survived.”

They picked their way across the revenant haunted wastes, picking up another couple of souls along the way. By the time they reached the rotted wooden gates Dan’s nerves were twanging and being chased by a pair of runaway siege engines did nothing to improve things. It was a relief to find the final soul manning a sentry post, but not enough to make him happy about Raziel’s manner of obtaining it. He looked across the surprisingly deserted compound to distract himself, when his attention was caught by a movement in the shadows. Two undead axemen were easing the doors closed behind them. In dark corners, fallen suits of armour rose and slowly marched forwards. Raziel was of no help at that moment, and there was nowhere to run. He charged.

Raziel spun around as the doors slammed shut. At least a dozen enemies appeared to have risen from the very shadows, or from the depths of the lake itself. Dan was no longer by his side, but laying into the undead horde with abandon. He ran towards in him, careful to remain clear of his swinging sword. Dan was sobbing in terror, striking about him wildly, but still holding his own.

He stepped forward to take the attention of the heavy knights, ducking and diving between them, raining down blows, forcing them slowly yet inexorably towards the swamp. Dan’s wild strikes felled the last of the axemen and he forced shaking legs to carry him towards their remaining enemies. He almost collided with Raziel when he came near, forcing the wraith to push him out of the way of an incoming broadsword.

This was no place for Daniel at the moment. When he hauled himself up, Raziel called out from the fray, “We need a way out. Can you get the doors open?”

Dan nodded, not trusting himself to speak and studied the large oak doors. They were damp and old, but still sturdy and closed with a heavy wooden plank. The swollen wood was wedged in place too securely for his shaking hands to lift it. The surrounding stone was too sheer to climb and far too strong to shatter, but the metal hinges were thick with rust. Dan kicked the doors with all his strength, which was currently not a lot. They shuddered, but held. Another few kicks and one of the hinges gave way and the left door slumped.

He tried to catch his non-existent breath while Raziel came up and took over door kicking duty. He could have splintered it in a couple of blows, but held back, giving Dan enough time to recover. When the aged oak did collapse, he took the lead in finding their way back to the boat. With luck, his friend would not notice the circuitous route he took to avoid any more encounters with the restless dead.

When they reached the waiting boat, Raziel lowered his cowl and released the souls he had gathered. The Boat Man counted them as they flew into the hold and nodded in satisfaction.

“How gracious of you! Makes a change to meet two polite young skeletons after dealing with those filthy zombie types. Hop aboard.”


	15. The Lake

Raziel insisted that Dan spent the entire journey in the centre of the small boat, and took his hand to steady him when they stepped onto the slippery jetty the Boat Man had stopped at. A network of wooden walkways spanned across the dark waters of the lake. They looked sturdy enough, but he still insisted on taking the lead. One misstep could spell death, and Dan was not the most coordinated individual.

By the time they had followed the path to shore, Raziel had relaxed somewhat. The walkways were in good repair and not as slippery as he had feared, and the crumbling stone houses held no dangers. He looked curiously at an orb set into one of the walls and jumped backwards as the eyeball opened and stared at him. A twofold growl from the lake made him spin around and he backed away from the two lizard creatures crawling from the water.

He pushed Dan aside as one spat an acidic globule of putrefied water at him. Rahabim, he thought. If his own brother had been stolen by a cult, was it possible that some young ones had… No, they were gone, he had to accept-

Claws flashed by his face, bringing him back to the present. He brought his sword around in an arc, only to have it bounce off the creature’s arm guards. His second blow was deflected in the same way, but when it dropped its guard to bite him, his blade struck it in the mouth. The guardian reared backwards, pawing at its face, blinded by its own foul green blood.

Dan was raining a flurry of blows down on the other guardian, not causing any visible harm, but forcing it back towards the lake. Seeing the fate of its fellow and the approaching wraith, it retreated and disappeared once more beneath the dark waters.

“Should we be getting along?” Raziel asked. “Preferably before it returns.”

 

The little village was clearly long abandoned. Aside from the guardians, easily avoided if they spotted the eyeballs in time, not even rats inhabited this place. They wandered through buildings half-drowned and roofless, devoid of life or even any sign of the humans who had once lived here; no dropped coins, no broken shards of pot, nothing but empty rooms. It made Raziel all the more suspicious of the runestones stored in one of the few buildings with a shingled roof. He drew his sword when Dan took them and would not sheath it until they came to a door bearing the now-familiar clawed hand, but not one which matched their keys. A Star Rune would be needed to enter here.

The wooden doors had a glassy sheen to them, doubtless due to the crystals which grew around them like mushrooms. In the stone by their side, one of the crystals had been crudely carved to resemble a grotesque face. Dan peered closed, and jumped back when the gargoyle spoke.

“The ancient people of this long vanished town once sought to harness the power of crystals found in the cavern below. Now Zarok seeks to unlock the secrets of this arcane science. This mineshaft leads deep into the earth, to certain doom in the Crystal Caverns.”

Dan gulped. “Certain doom?”

“And Zarok.”

He sighed. “Let’s find the damn key.”

 

Once more wandering the wooden labyrinth, but now with purpose, Raziel took the lead again. He strode along the winding path until he saw what was at the end of it and stopped dead. The walkway curved in a ring around a whirlpool, splitting off along three short paths around the side. The swirling torrent was surrounded by calm dark water on all sides, but was nothing to the flood of terror inside his head. There were footsteps behind him. Kain was going to-

Raziel screamed when a hand met his shoulder.

“Raziel, it’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The world slowly unfroze and he looked into Dan’s worried face, then quickly turned away. “My apologies. For a moment I thought you were… someone else.”

He refused to be drawn further, but Dan insisted on walking on the inside as they skirted the whirlpool together, and this time it was Raziel who laced their fingers together. “I do not trust you on greasy planks next to that,” had been the claim, and Dan had more sense than to dispute it, or ask why he gripped his hand so tightly.

When they came to the first pathway off the ring, Raziel moved ahead, eager to examine the strange structure at its end and to be away from the waters at his back. It looked like a large pot-bellied stove with a red crystal sprouting from the top. At its front was a red claw waiting to receive the Chaos Rune. Once it was slotted in place, the machine shook and rattled, smoke issued from the stovepipe, but with no obvious result.

“That looks dangerous. Do you think it’s broken?”

“I have been in temples which were in perfect working order centuries after the last of their architects died, but this looks rather more primitive and barely functional.” Raziel tried to pull the rune out of the lock, but he may as well have tried to lift the Earth. There was nothing else to be done but activate the other two machines.

Putting the Time Rune in place on the second had much the same effect as the first, except that it also caused two guardians to leap from the water. Dan backed the other against the side of the shaking engine while Raziel squared up to the one blocking their path. He swung Jaons’ sword in a series of arcs, forcing it closer to the swirling vortex at its back. As soon as it lost its footing he knew he had made a mistake, that the sight of the guardian being swallowed by the tempestuous waters would replay itself over and over in his head, mingling into his nightmares with the memories of his death. He hurried towards the final contraption to wait for Dan.

 

With the Earth Rune in place, the arcane engine rattled into life and the triad’s purpose became clear. The waters at their centre slowed in their endless cycle, water droplets hanging like crystals in the air, until the entire whirlpool became a funnel of frozen water. A dreadful certainty stole over Raziel and he backed away. “I am _not_ going down _there._ ”

“I don’t want to either, but I don’t think we’ve got much choice.”

“But…” This is how I died? _No, it wasn’t. The Lake of the Dead tore the flesh from your bones and the soul from your body._ I remember what waited at the bottom _? In Nosgoth, not in this place, where the dead have their own land._ “It reminds me, far too much, of the manner of my death.” _True, he deserves the truth from you._

He explained, in few words and with many pauses, the burden which weighed upon his mind.

Dan was silent for a space, then sat upon the greasy boards, feet hanging over the frozen water and bade Raziel join him. “It won’t be like that. I won’t let it. Look.”

Raziel sat down carefully, some space from the edge, and leaned forward. After a while, he shuffled closer and prodded the top of the funnel with an outstretched claw. It felt something like jelly or the film of a bubble, not ice as he had expected. If he squinted into the hole at the bottom, he could convince himself he could see the lakebed. Dan was right – this was not the lake of memory.

At length, Raziel nodded. He took Dan’s hand and leapt.

 

The slope beneath them was slick as ice for the few moments they were on it, then the lakebed rose to meet them. Raziel lifted his head up from the surprisingly dry, gritty surface they had landed on. Funny, how easily he could see, given how dark the water had looked from the surface. He allowed Dan to help him up and wandered towards the boundary between lake and air. He poked the gelatinous membrane gently, the quiet gloop sounding loud in the underwater silence, and watched the ripples spreading outwards, wondering how quickly they would fade, but suddenly that wasn’t the most important question.

“What the hell is that?” There was something enormous and blue swimming towards the unnatural tunnel, huge ears flapping like fins.

“It’s an elephant. You saw that topiary one, remember?”

“They’re _aquatic_?” At least it wasn’t a squid, but still the shock was not a pleasant one.

“They’re very gentle. I’ve heard stories of them rescuing sailors from kraken.”

“Gentle?” Raziel was unconvinced, but stood with Dan as he watched it swim past, moving with surprising grace and speed despite its bulk. “Fine. Let’s just get out of here.”

 

The tunnel lead steadily upwards towards the shore. When the roof and walls changes from water to sandstone, the air grew somehow damper, as if the magic that had made the passageway had chased any trace of moisture from their path.

Above sea level once more, they found themselves in another corner of the abandoned village, which seemed to have been built on any available strip of land between the lake and the cliffs above. The buildings here were in slightly better repair, but stood just as empty in the moonlight. One opened out into a courtyard with a pool of water at its centre and arcane carvings dotted along its sides, the first decoration they had seen in this place. After the gathering of the rune keys, Raziel chose to keep his misgivings to himself and followed Dan inside.

Lying at the bottom of the pool was a now familiar square stone. Raziel lifted the Star Rune from its hiding place and swore as he was hit by a sudden stinging blast of water. Dan rose his shield as one spurted from the opposite wall, and shouted the word which had defined their quest thus far, “Run!”


	16. The Crystal Caves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap between chapters. Updates are likely to continue being somewhat sporadic for a while. Thank you for your patience.

The doors to the mineshaft creaked open ponderously, flakes of crystal falling like snow. The pair entered with swords drawn, mindful of the gargoyle’s warning.

The first surprising thing about the mines was the light. It emanated from the very walls, the colour of the crystals which grew on them like moss. The second was the space. Raziel knew from Turel that a mineshaft should be large enough for a man or a pony to walk through and no more. After a few hundred yards, this place opened up into a vast cavern with walkways strung between the stalagmites far above the distant floor.

It seemed almost a sacrilege to walk on the paths of crystal stone, but Dan’s thoughts were more taken up by the chasm on either side. The polished green surface far below seemed to drag at him, wanting to pull him over the edge.

It was a relief to reach the network of caves on the other side, but even these were far from the mines he had imagined, more like a labyrinth cut into the living rock. The left hand passage took them quickly to a vertical shaft which stretched down into the earth farther than the eye could see. Before it was a rune lock and a gargoyle which creaked into life at their approach.

“Oh, it’s you two,” it said, sounding less than impressed. “All who usually come this way are the Rhinotaurs. Many centuries ago they destroyed the town of Mellowmede, but live on in a state of hibernation, using the crystals to prolong their worthless hides. Long ago, this lock was placed here to keep them from the world of men. If you wish to be free of this place, seek out the dragon who was entrusted with the key.”

“It appears the dragon gem the witch gave us will come in useful,” Raziel said as they wandered deeper into the caves.

“Yeah…” Dan mumbled, more concerned with the blue skinned creature apparently trapped in a crystal growing from the floor. He skirted it with his sword raised and managed to stifle his yelp when the crystal shattered and the Rhinotaur emerged.

Raziel drew his own blade and the creature barely had time to raise its club before it found itself at the centre if a tightening circle of steel. Strong though it was, the Rhinotaur was cornered and outnumbered, and the stone underfoot was soon stained red with its blood. Neither of them spared the body a glance as Dan once more cautiously took the lead. This eternal night held so many terrors that the sleeping dead no longer bothered him.

A bat, startled from sleep by the sound of their footfalls, fluttered around the pair for a moment before diving into one of the cracks in the roof. Dan untensed and sheathed his sword sheepishly.

“Oh,” he breathed when he saw the next chamber. Two of the terrible creatures and an imp stood encased in crystal. He stepped back around the corner and held a whispered conversation with Raziel.

“We need to even the odds as soon as possible. The one on the right is the closest, you say? Then we rush it, one of us shatters the crystal before it has a chance, and the other kills it. One good blow at head height should be sufficient.”

“I’ll leave that bit to you. Breaking stuff I can do.”

 

The other two crystals shattered barely a second after the first, and Dan turned to face the threat before the first body slumped. Raziel tried to tug his sword from the corpse and dealt a sharp, clawed kick to the imp which tried to relieve him of it. He pulled the blade free and rushed to help Dan, who was having some trouble. As he watched, the Rhinotaur’s mallet bounced off his raised shield, forcing him back towards the little pool at the back of the cave. If he fell, it could spell disaster. He had to end their fight quickly.

Was the creature deaf? It did not turn as his claws rang out on the stone floor. Dan was close to the edge, another step back and he would fall. Time to test Vorador’s skill. He drew his arm back and thrust his blade towards its heart. The sword cut through flesh and sinew as if they were made of butter and sunk in almost to the hilt. Too late, he realised this may not have been the best method of preventing Dan from falling. His view was blocked by the dying Rhinotaur’s bulk, but he heard the startled scream and the splash that followed. He let the body fall to the floor and saw at the spreading ripples in the water, but no sign of his companion.

“Dan? Are you hurt?” he called.

A slightly echoey voice answered from the darkness behind the waterfall. “I’m fine. And I think I’ve found the dragon’s lair.”

Raziel joined him in the flame lit chamber and removed the dragon gem from his cowl. It was clearly intended to rest in one of the eye sockets of the carving on the near wall, but-

“Damnation. We need another gem.”

He was about to stalk out in search of it, but Dan raised a finger, mumbled, “Wait a mo,” and started rummaging in his breastplate. The search produced the chalice, a handful of arrows, a very surprised earthworm, and the gem he had picked up in the asylum.

Its effect upon being placed in the carving was immediate. The very room shook with the approaching footsteps of some great beast and a thunderous voice demanded, “Who dares to enter my lair and wake me from my slumber?”

The dragon could barely fit its head through the man sized aperture to glare at the pair. “Come to steal my armour, have you?”

“Actually, we-” Dan began before he was cut off.

“Aha! Prepare yourselves, little men, I shall roast the flesh from your bones… oh, um,” he paused and took stock of his skeletal visitors, then rallied. “I see… In that case… I will pluck out both your eyes… ah… oh, great…” he tried to think while Raziel unsuccessfully tried to smother his sniggers. Eventually, he gave up and settled on, “I’m… I’m just going to give you a good hiding!”

“But we just-” Dan tried again, before jumping out of the path of a sheet of flame the dragon spat at him. Raziel, still doubled over in silent laughter was not so quick and the flame caught on the ragged remnants of his flesh. That was enough to sober him and send him running for the pool of water outside.

The still-steaming wraith returned to Dan beginning to panic. “I tried to stab him, but he didn’t even feel it! God, there’s nothing we can do, we’re dead!”

“Human blades may be too weak, but let us see how vampires’ fare.” He ran forwards, sword swinging, and got thrown painfully and unceremoniously against the opposite wall, bringing some of the crystals down with him. The dragon winced as a shard hit his snout and retreated briefly into the cave.

Raziel pulled himself up with the aid of Dan’s offered arm, brow furrowed less from pain than thought. The ceiling of the cave was covered in crystals, the same as everywhere else in this place, sharp edged and glowing with magic.

“I need a distraction,” he hissed, trying to keep sight of the dragon and simultaneously look for cover. No luck; he would just have to be fast and trust Daniel to cover him. Another jet of flame came at them, forcing them both to jump out of its range. Dan ran towards the dragon, ducking and weaving to hold it attention, whilst Raziel sighted on the ceiling. He didn’t have the best shot at the large crystal above the dragon’s head, but to leave it any longer would risk Daniel getting hit.

He fired a volley of telekinetic blasts at the crystal, bringing it down squarely on the dragon’s head.

“Aargh… Enough, I yield!” the dragon cried, barely raising his head from the floor. “That really hurt. What did you have to go and do that for?”

“Why did you have to set me on fire?” Raziel countered, bringing a claw up to his aching head.

“All we wanted was your runestone,” Dan grumbled.

“Here, take it, and this Dragon Potion. Now leave me alone!”

“Erm, thank you?” Dan said as it retreated once more into the darkness.

 

Aside from a few wrong turns, the journey back through the caves was uneventful. The time was passed easily by Dan telling Raziel about the legendary armour of the dragons. It was a carefully guarded secret passed down among the clans, a potion which turned to steel and gave the wearer the dragon-gift of fire breathing. Wearing it, a man could stand in the heart of a volcano and not feel a thing.

“And _all of this_ , we have picked up by accident?”

Dan shrugged and nodded. “It appears so.”

“And we have the rune key.” So saying, he placed it in the waiting claw and a crystal screen rose from the cavern below. Still distrustful of magical platforms after the forest, they crossed it quickly into the caves beyond.


	17. The Gallows Gauntlet

The crystals on the cave walls rapidly became more sparse as the magic drained away and the living rock gave way to rough masonry. Ancient mage lights set at too-infrequent intervals gave off sickly red glow which seemed to do little more than make shadows in the darkness.

A rhythmic creaking made them both look up, searching the shadows of the roof for its source. Raziel, whose eyes were unfortunately sharper, was the first to see the body hanging from a half-rotten timber. The noose around its neck stopped the zombie from moaning or crying out, but it struggled determinedly to free itself in a silence which was somehow worse.

“Oh, we’re here,” said Dan in a quiet voice.

“Where?” Aside from nowhere good, he added mentally, still watching the swinging corpse.

“We should leave. Quickly.” He tugged his arm, trying to get the wraith to follow.

“Where. Are. We. Daniel. Fortesque?”

“Alright, I’ll tell you as we go. Gallowmere got its name from this place. A long, long time ago, there was a war. Now, the islands around here have always had little scuffles, but this one was serious, not just cattle raiding or a few scraps in a field. A group of men, not even wizards, just foolish and cruel, summoned a demonic serpent to kill their foes. It killed indiscriminately, warriors, farmers, maidens, babes, none were safe. All feared the Serpent of Gallowmere who hunted like a ghost and fought like a lion until it was trapped by the witches of the dragon clans. The men themselves were defeated soon after. Most were killed, but some still lived. No king would imprison them, no hangman dared kill them for fear of what would return, except for King Cormorant. He had them taken to the deepest caves in the island, hanged and impaled, and their souls trapped in the stones along with the hell beast they summoned. Ever afterwards, we were known as the kingdom that did what was needed, that would not turn away from any foe.”

Raziel blinked. He saw now why Dan had been so highly favoured by the king, but there were more pressing things on his mind than Daniel’s silver tongue. “So how, exactly, will they have been affected by Zarok’s magic?”

“I don’t know and I don’t particularly want to find out. Just get out as quickly as possible, that’s the ticket.”

“Agreed.”

 

Their hurried footsteps carried them past a pair of bodies impaled, inanimate, on wooden spikes. Both knew better than to believe they would remain so. Swords drawn, they approached warily, Raziel trying to purge his mind of all the vampires he had seen in such a state back in the time of the Sarafan.

The corpses’ lifeless struggles were distraction enough; one tearing itself free, the other snapping the wood it hung upon and standing up, the rowan stake still protruding from its chest. These were not the mindless, shambling revenants they were used to, but competent warriors driven by rage. Unarmed, they still swung at the pair with fists and lunged at them with stakes, and would not yield. Only when their limbs were scattered and their craniums smashed did the dark magic fade from their bodies.

Dan examined his dented shield and shook his head. He didn’t know how much more of a pounding it could take. Hopefully he would not have to find out. He hurried after Raziel, ducking behind piles of rubble and trying to avoid any more zombies.

 

They were unsuccessful in their endeavour. After several more unpleasant encounters with the villains here interred and moderate rope burns from one of the hanging victims, Raziel’s fragile patience snapped. In the centre of an open corridor, unavoidable, a desiccated corpse wrapped in bandages lay across their path.

“I grow weary of this charade,” he growled, stalking towards the corpse. “Rise, creature, and fight with honour or do not trouble us. We have already felled a legion this day and you shall be merely another notch upon my sword.”

The mummy pushed itself upright and lumbered towards him. It was almost twice the height of the wraith and very angry. Raziel cursed and drew back his sword.

“Raz! Duck!”

He did so, then scrambled backwards as the mummy started pawing at itself where the arrow had struck home. Flames were already leaping across dry bandages and searing putrid flesh. Panicked and distracted and likely dying, Raziel dismissed it as a threat and joined Dan by a most singular door.

It was no mystery now how he had set the arrow alight. The doorway was an arch of flames, flanked by a pair of snarling dragons wrought in gold.

Dan glanced around for any dangers, and upon seeing none reached into his breastplate to produce the dragon potion. “I wish this thing came with instructions,” he muttered as he swirled the glowing green liquid in the twisted horn flask.

“May I?” Raziel asked and took it, peering at the designs on the lid.

“Ah,” he said after a few moments. “It appears that we are meant to drink it.”

Attempting to drink anything without a lower jaw is interesting to say the least. Without a digestive system, it is just about impossible. The viscous green liquid dripped down their ribcages, leading to slightly uneasy laughter, which turned to panic when it began to solidify and move. They calmed somewhat once it proved itself harmless, covering their bodies in something which could only be called plate mail. Soon they were both adorned in what Raziel was certain was dress armour, because who would go into battle with such a ridiculous helm?

Regardless of its functionality on the battle field, it did allow them to pass through the fiery barrier unharmed. In the chamber beyond there was nothing but a large ornate chest and another Dragon Gate set into the far wall.

Before Dan could stop him, Raziel walked over to the chest and tapped it. The box shook, the lock rattled and snapped as the lid flew open. He leapt back and then fled from the uncoiling serpent, Dan barely half a pace behind and screaming. The fire issuing from his helmet was something he could ask about later, because the serpent was following them through the barrier and showing no sign of slowing.

“Faster!” Raziel shouted, grabbed Dan’s hand and sprinted along the corridor. The mage lights were even weaker here, some had died completely, but the serpent still followed. They pounded up the incline, barely noticing as masonry turned to mud. Only when the distant circle of moonlight grew and neared, and the pair escaped the tunnel into the cool pine scented forests, did their pursuer turn away from the living land and return to the prison of the dead.


	18. The Haunted Ruins

The ruins of Castle Peregrine loomed over the forest, black against the midnight sky. If he concentrated, Raziel was sure he could see the silhouettes of the shadow demons fluttering around its towers like overgrown bats. Dan seemed more certain of the paths around the castle, having hunted there often in life, and it was not long until they reached the farmstead outside the castle walls.

It was abandoned, the livestock left to wander free and much of the furniture in the houses smashed. Raziel found a slate in the dairy with a hastily scribbled message on it. “ ‘A bucket of corn for the chickens, two of slops for the pigs, put the sheep up on the high field on Tuesday Oh God they’re coming. If anyone finds this, the Shadow Demons are taking them to Castle Peregrine. The door isn’t going to hold much lon-’ then the chalk tails off.” He turned the slate over. “That’s it except for some bloodstains.”

 

“This is bad,” Dan whispered from where they hid behind the battlement. Climbing up the crumbling walls had not been difficult, but the scene in the courtyard stopped them in their tracks.

“Three hostages, two demons, one lever, and two of us. I don’t like the farmers’ chances if we rush in.”

“ _Their_ chances? I don’t think much of ours.”

“Do you think they would notice if I crept round the back and doused the fires?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“No.”

 

Raziel glided silently down to the courtyard, keeping in the shadow of the gatehouse. He had a clear line of sight to where the three men were tied hand and foot and suspended over the flames. The problem was, so did the demons. He looked up at the moon threatening to emerge from behind the cloudbank. Much longer and his cover of darkness would be gone. Cursing silently, he flitted through the shadows, praying the sound of claws on stone would not alert the Shadow Demons.

He scattered the wood of the first fire, imagining with amusement Vorador’s reaction if he ever found out that a blade of his making had been used as a common fire poker. His mirth was swiftly dispelled by a shriek from a Shadow Demon. He looked up to see two of the bearing down on him and, more importantly, another running towards the switch. It made the mistake of looking up at a yell from the battlement. Dan was running down the uneven steps towards it, sword in hand.

Raziel had no time to see any more, as the first two demons had reached him. They were strong, hellishly so, and their clawed arms far outspanned his sword. He moved in close, using his sword to stab and block attacks, not wasting time and energy on wide swings. Kain had considered shields dishonourable, and in ‘life’ Raziel had followed him as he had in all things, but right now there was nothing he wanted more. He ducked under a demon’s claws and stabbed up into its throat. Not even bothering to wait for the beast to realise it was dead, he turned to the other. To where the other should have been. It was running across the courtyard to the lever by the captives.

“Dan!” Raziel shouted. “Switch targets!”

Dan looked around, saw the Shadow Demon pulling away from Raziel, and ran towards it. It was fortunate for all involved that the demon’s sense of self-preservation was greater than its desire to pull the switch, and considerably less fortunate for the demon that it was soon fighting two enemies.

“Are you hurt?” Raziel asked after it was felled, the strength from the creature’s dark soul already knitting his own flesh back together.

“I’m fine, but my shield’s had it.” Dan held up the sad remnants of the copper disc. The demon’s claws had torn through it like tissue paper. “If you’ve no objections, I’d like to get to the armoury one we’ve freed the farmers.”

The farmers themselves, once the flamed were doused and their bonds were broken, took one look at their rescuers and fled.

“Unsurprising, yet still somehow hurtful,” Raziel commented. “Lead on, Sir Daniel.”

 

The armoury was in surprisingly good repair, which was more than could be said for most of the contents. Suits of armour had rusted together into one immovable mess where the roof had leaked and much of the chainmail looked, against all probability, moth-eaten. Dan did find a shield hanging on the wall with the king’s standard on it. The centuries did not seem to have touched it due, Dan said, to the magic it was imbued with.

“Good old Karl Sturnguard. If you wanted a shield or armour he was your man. Hmm, I wonder…” A little more rummaging and he held up a sword. “I thought so! Where Karl went, Dirk would follow, and where Dirk went, so did his magic sword. Those two were always bickering,” he said fondly and slung the baldric over his back.

While he was talking, Raziel had picked up a silver shield and started fiddling with the straps on the back, clearly clueless as to what he was doing.

Dan looked round. “You need to put your arm in that bit… right, now tighten that and move your bracer round. Right, that’s it.”

Once Raziel had refused any further armour and Dan had picked up some more crossbow bolts, the pair made their way to the throne room. The once fine tapestries which lined it were now faded and torn. Bats fluttered in the eaves. Dan was inclined to melancholy at the sight. “When I left for battle a century earlier, this was not the welcome home I expected. The jewel in Gallowmere’s crown become a corrupt haven for Zarok’s Shadow Demons. If the king’s ghost truly haunts these walls, he must be saddened indeed.”

He wandered towards the cobweb strewn throne, then gasped and knelt as the ghost of King Peregrine faded into view.

“Sir Fortesque, noblest of my courtiers, bravest of my captains! Oh, that we should meet at such a dark hour with the fate of this realm lying once again in your hands.” The paused and appeared to properly look at the pair for the first time. “Good God, Fortesque – what’s happened to your jaw? And who is this fellow? He looks positively emaciated.”

“Try ‘dead’, your majesty,” Raziel replied icily. “My name is Lord Raziel of Nosgoth, foremost amongst Emperor Kain’s lieutenants.” He knew the names would mean nothing to him, but perhaps the man would be impressed by the titles.

Dan merely looked embarrassed and muttered, “It fell off.”

“Bad luck, dear chaps,” the king said kindly, then continued as if the interlude had never taken place. “Now look, Zarok’s army of Shadow Demons hide beneath this very mountain. They prepare as we speak to invade fair Gallowmere. If we are to thwart his plans, we must bring the castle down on top of them, we must unleash the lava behind the floodgates!”

“What?!” Raziel and Dan chorused, the former in confusion and the latter in terror.

“Of course, it’s a highly dangerous mission – even for dead men. I dare say that when that fiend sees what you’ve done he’ll make sure that you spend eternity in the most unspeakable torment. But then, I know these things mean nothing to a man of your iron will, eh, Fortescue?”

Dan merely gulped quietly, so he turned to Raziel. “What about you, my man? Not afraid of that old sorcerer are you?”

“I doubt Zarok knows the meaning of ‘an eternity of torment’, but I would be glad to enlighten him. Now, about these floodgates-”

“Splendid! Good luck, old chaps!” the ghost said cheerfully and faded away.

Raziel’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement. “What… was that about?”

Dan stopped his quiet litany of “We’re going to die, we’re going to die, we’re dead, oh shit, we’re really, really dead.” to answer, “The castle was built on a dormant volcano. If we open the floodgates in the lower dungeons, the lava will flow the other way. Then we’ll die.”

“Calm down. We still have some of the dragon potion left. Where are the floodgates?”

 

The stone around the magically enhanced barrier was warm to the touch and the lever to open it was barely a few metres away. “Who thought this was a good idea?” Raziel muttered, ignoring the fact that his own family had been as bad in terms of oversized meat grinders, stone blocks as keys, and unnecessarily spike architecture. This was still worse even than Dumah’s room-sized furnace. Still, he drank half the potion, passed the remainder to Dan, and hoped it would last long enough for them to escape.

Dan downed his share and pulled the lever. The floodgates opened and lava immediately began to flow like water. It pooled about their feet as they ran through the dungeons and poured into long abandoned rooms. A short flight of steps took them to the cellars, where wine was once stored, along with- “Oh, shit!” Dan said and pointed at the barrels which contained something rather more dangerous than mead.

“You _forgot_ about the gunpowder store in the cellar?” Raziel asked incredulously.

“How did I know it was still going to be here after a hundred years?”

“Alright, alright, how long until the lava gets here?”

“Maybe a minute.”

By this point they didn’t even need to say it, just joined hands and fled.

 

Once outside, they met another problem.

“Who raised the drawbridge?”

“Does it matter? We don’t have time to lower it. There’s a side door this way.” Dan dragged Raziel around a corner to where a small wicket gate was blocked by fallen masonry. “Bugger.”

Raziel looked at the trebuchet next to it. The ropes sagged, but didn’t look frayed, and the wood was in good condition. “Hmm… Dan, turn that crank anticlockwise. I think this will work.”

Dan looked at the siege weapon, then Raziel, then back again. A moment later, he realised what her intended to do. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. Do you know how hard that thing flings rocks? We’ll be killed.”

“We may be, I agree, but if we stay here that is a certainty.”

Dan gave in. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

 

The peace of the night time forests was shattered by a twofold scream as a pair of skeletal figures flew through the air, still clinging onto each other as if that would be of any help. A moment later the castle exploded.

Raziel tried to slow their descent by holding one tattered wing open with his free hand, but only succeeded in spinning them around. He gave in and allowed gravity to pull then to earth with a bone rattling thump, but not before they hit what felt like every branch in the forest on the way down.

Dan rolled onto his back and stared at the stars visible through the hole made by their descent through the treetops. “Raz? You alive?”

A pitiful voice answered, “I think so.”

“I wish I wasn’t.” He pushed himself up and groaned. “Come on. I don’t particularly want the surviving Shadow Demons to find us.”


	19. The Ghost Ship

Sore and disorientated, Raziel and Dan made a sorry sight traipsing through the woodland. Neither spoke except to grumble or ask the other if they had any idea what direction to head in.

Dan brightened up when they came to a stone circle in a clearing. “Right, I think I can work out where to go now. The sun rises above that stone at midwinter, and at the autumn equinox that one- holy fuck!”

Towering over the circle of stone was a lizard three times the height of a man. Raziel took no convincing to flee after Dan who was already running in the opposite direction.

“What the hell is that thing?” He asked as they pounded along a sheep track, bracken whipping at their legs.

“Jabberwockey,” Dan panted. “Very dangerous. We’re lucky it’s a young one.”

“ _That’s_ a young one? Woah!” They skidded to a halt. It was either that of run off the edge of the cliff.

Raziel turned to watch the rapidly approaching creature. “Tell me, what are our chances if we fight that thing?”

“Roughly nil.”

“I think I see a ship down there. If there is, I could easily glide down.”

“What about me?”

“Hold on,” Raziel suggested.

The Jabberwockey was getting too close for him to argue. Dan wrapped his arms around Raziel and closed his eye as he jumped. When they didn’t immediately plummet, he opened it again. After half a second, he shut his eye, tightened his grip, and wrapped his legs around Raziel’s waist. It was not exactly a dignified position, but dignity took second place to not falling to his death.

“Oh,” Raziel said softly, a word guaranteed to spark terror in the heart of anyone who knew him. “There appears to be less down than I expected.” His feet met the deck of the ship and Dan unwound himself from the wraith.

“Less down? What do you mea-” Dan looked over the guardrail and immediately stepped back. “The ship’s flying?”

Raziel nodded. “I take it this isn’t a regular occurrence here either?”

“Not what you’d call everyday, no.”

He was prevented from saying anything else by the cutlass at his neck. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? A pair of stowaways, I’ll be bound. The captain’ll want to deal with you.” There was a particularly nasty harmonic in the skeletal pirate’s voice which implied that they would be ‘dealt with’ terminally.

“Excuse me,” Raziel said.

“Wha-” the pirate began, turning just in time for Raziel’s claws to connect with his jaw. Dan kicked his shin, spun from his grasp, and drew his sword.

The favourable odds didn’t last for long. A cry of “Get them!” rang out across the deck and half a dozen undead buccaneers charged at them.

Raziel was glad of his shield. Their enemies had no flesh to cut or muscles to ache, but struck as strongly as any living man. The best he could do was bludgeon and hope to break their bones.

Dan had decided a hit and run approach would serve him better than standing and fighting. Their swords _hurt_ , and he was sure he’d broken a rib. By sheer dumb luck, he connected with the officer’s neck vertebrae. By sheer bad luck, he got his sword stuck.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Trying to dodge back out of the fray, he just succeeded in dragging him with him. In desperation, he brought his shield down on his skull. The blow, along with Dan’s feverish attempts to remove his sword, finally snapped the vertebral column.

Dan looked around for his next target, only to see the rest of the pirates collapsing.

“Is that it?” he asked, hope overcoming experience.

“I doubt it.” Raziel pointed to the crow’s nest, where they were being watched and no doubt plotted against. “At least we now know to go for the officers.”

 

At the prow of the ship another conversation was taking place.

“Captain, I thought you ought to know we have a couple of stowaways on board. I’ve told the men to scour the decks for him.” The first mate prided himself on his efficiency. He did hope they wouldn’t be too violent – he hated trying to get bloodstains out of the deck.

His captain, however, had other ideas. He strode across the deck, gesticulating angrily. “Good, I want those scurvy dogs dangling from yon yardarm by their bowels!”

His long suffering second in command shuddered delicately. “Is that really necessary? Couldn’t we just give them a good tongue lashing and drop them off at the next port?”

“Look, there’s not a man jack on this ship who wouldn’t keelhaul his own grandmother for the silver in her hair – there’ll be no tongue lashing! Bring the landlubbers to me and I’ll tear ‘em a new orifice!”

The first mate sighed. “Very good, sir.”

 

Dan and Raziel were, as the captain had said, landlubbers and struggled to stay on their feet at every bout of turbulence. Dan in particular was glad he no longer had a stomach, as he was certain in life he would have been quite sick.

Remembering something Rahab had once said, Raziel led him below deck in the hopes of quelling his nausea. Whether or not it was successful was open to debate, as they had barely got down the stairs before they ran into more of the skeleton crew.

A pair of red shirted crewmen, who had apparently been enjoying a quiet card game before their arrival, drew their cutlasses with bad grace and advanced.

“You just had to come this way, didn’t you?” one said.

“Are you two gonna surrender or do we have to fight you?” the other asked.

Raziel answered with a single eloquent sweep of his sword. The pirate’s arm clattered to the floor still clutching his cutlass.

While he doubled over swearing, Dan turned his attention to his friend. Their swords rattled against each other as they battled across the swaying surface. For all his cowardice in war, Dan had been the champion of many a tourney, and would likely have won on his own terms if the fight had continued. As it was, his opponent was sent flying by a rolling barrel and Raziel dragged the knight out of the room before he could right himself.

 

“Did you see that?” Raziel asked once he had shut and barred the door behind them.

“See what?”

“That skeleton put his arm back on. They can re-form themselves.”

Dan considered the implications of this for a couple of seconds. “Oh, God. Please tell me you have a plan.”

“Not much of one, I will admit, but it strikes me that the crewmen are dependent upon their officers. Our best course of action is therefore to take out the captain.”

“Oh. Joy.” Dan would probably have said more, but the door began to rattle from the barrage of blows it was receiving from the other side and he thought it best to leave.

 

The double doors opened almost immediately onto a deep drop crisscrossed by rigging and narrow walkways.

Dan peered cautiously over the edge. “You don’t suppose there’s any chance of the captain being on this side of that?”

“No.” Raziel pointed to a distant figure at the prow.

Dan’s eyesight was not sharp enough to be certain, but he trusted Raziel, far more than he did the rigging. It was old and frayed, and in places non-existent. He pulled on it uncertainly.

Raziel tried to be patient while Dan tested the ropes, but after he had spent a full two minutes staring at them, he decided to take charge.

“If you wait much longer, they will have crumbled into dust. I will be right behind you, now climb.”

Dan’s progress was achingly slow, even with Raziel guiding his feet and even occasionally outright pushing him up the rigging. Eventually, gasping and shaking, he collapsed on a swaying platform one short jump from the front deck. Raziel dropped down lightly beside him and watched the scene on deck until Dan regained his composure.

“The captain sounds livid,” Raziel began, as soon as he was upright. “And he does not appear to be an easy adversary. I doubt our swords will be sufficient.”

Dan looked around, but not in any sense down. Down was not a direction with which he wished to be acquainted.

“Have you ever fired a cannon before?” he asked.

“No, but I have had them fired at me enough times to understand their function.”

 

Raziel flitted silently across the deck to the battery of cannon and turned one round to face the prow. Dan clattered onto the deck and ran to join him with a sound like a brass band falling downstairs. For one awful moment, he thought the noise had alerted the first mate, but the disgruntled skeleton walked right past them and dropped a book of matches on the floor.

Dan sighed in relief and turned his attention back to the cannon. “We’re in luck. It’s already armed, we just need to light the fuse.”

Raziel looked at the dropped matches and narrowed his eyes. Old betrayals had made him suspicious of coincidence and this was too convenient to put down to chance. Nevertheless, he scrambled from their hiding place, snatched up the matches, and passed them to Dan.

“Thanks. Now turn it a little to the left. Alright, now cover your ears.”

Raziel did as instructed, but the sound of the cannon firing still nearly shattered his eardrums.

When the echoes had faded away, half the crewmen were clustered around their fallen captain, and the former first mate was striding towards them. “You may lower your swords, gentlemen. You have nothing to fear from me or my crew.”

“Um, the, err, the captain,” Dan began.

“That old sea dog was getting far too big for his boots. I’m rather glad to be rid of him, truth be told. What can I do to thank you?”

“Giving us a lift to Zarok’s castle would be a favourite.”


	20. Zarok's Lair

The ship moored by a strange device which took up half the side of the mountain, or so it seemed. The architect had clearly not been constrained by money, practicality, or even the laws of physics. Cogs pinwheeled across the sky, sharp edged pendulums swung unsupported, and red lightning crackled and arced into cages of light. The time device was an impressive sight, but Raziel merely groaned.

“If Moebius is behind this, I swear to God…”

“Who?”

“Don’t ask, just pray you never have to find out.”

Although informed by the resident gargoyle that this was a chronograph, not a chronoplast, there was still something cathartic about dismantling it. Raziel grinned as he directed the lightning to shatter the crystal at the heart of it all. It was no surprise that the time rune Dan had found behind a barrier of sharp, spinning clock hands was used to unlock the double doors leading into the mountain.

Raziel kicked them open, then stopped and stared in at the strange metal cart in the centre of the room.

“Zarok’s ‘train’,” Dan explained. “A steam chariot powered by some dark magic called ‘science’. It’s come a long way in a hundred years. With luck, it’ll take us right to him.”

“When have we ever been lucky?” Raziel asked, but agreed that riding on the contraption was a better option than walking down the dark tunnel its tracks stretched away into.

 

The train chuffed to a halt outside the door to Zarok’s castle. The edifice rose, high towered and foreboding before them, but the entrance hall was well lit with torches.

“Sir Daniel Fortesque! Standing bold as you like in the foyer of Zarok’s castle – who’d have thought it? Not us, that’s for sure.” There was no mocking in the gargoyle’s voice as it greeted them. “We’s afraid the master of the house is out trying to plunge the land into eternal night, but come on in and make yourselves at home.”

They walked through the deserted halls, past a room sized orrery charting the courses of unknown planets, deep into the heart of Zarok’s lair. His work room gave them reason to pause, and not only because of the imps which infested it. Once they were felled, Dan inspected the waterfall across the door in fascination, while Raziel with his unerring instinct for things best left well alone gravitated towards a spell book and started reading.

“Raising the dead… Putting towns to sleep… Looking good for the over 400s…” Raziel chuckled and flicked forward a few pages, then fell silent as he read. _As the goodwife calls new life into the world, so the good lightning calls up life for the dead, yet the wise mage uses it sparingly for it drains the life from the wielder._ He eyed the jar of green energy on the desk, glanced at Dan’s still turned back, and slipped it into his cowl. On the next page was a drawing of a very familiar cup. “Dan, come over here.”

“The Chalice of Souls, when full to the brim, allows a Hero to summon the souls of lost shieldmates to fight with him once more in borrowed bones.” Raziel flourished the brimming goblet. “Daniel, this is just what we need, an army to fight for Gallowmere once more!”

“It would if I was a Hero. That capital letter means heroes eligible to enter the Hall of Heroes when they die. I don’t exactly qualify.”

“Don’t qualify? Did you not listen to anything the fairy said? You would not have it if you were not worthy, Daniel. You have fought dead men and demons, dragged Janos out of the gates of hell. If any man deserves the accolade of Hero it is you, and if Zarok had any sense he would be shaking in his boots knowing you are coming for him.”

To say Raziel’s words steeled Dan for the fight to come would be an exaggeration, but as they continued their search for Zarok, a small flame of hope burned in his chest.


	21. The Battle of Gallowmere

The place where Zarok waited for them was clear even without the gargoyle’s warning. An arena would be a better word for it – a large circular room with gated doorways leading off it and a single balcony upon which the sorcerer stood.

“Sir Fortesque, my old nemesis, so we meet again. I see that a century spent as worm food has done nothing to diminish your naïve obsession with the freedom of Gallowmere.” As he spoke, the portcullises rattled upwards and a dozen skeletal warriors marched into the room and stood awaiting their master’s command.

Raziel stepped in front of Daniel, drawing his sword and Zarok appeared to notice him for the first time. “Oh, you’ve got a little friend. How sweet. But do you really think your weapons can match those forged of souls and magic?” He raised his voice and addressed his men, “Prepare to attack, my warriors. I want the dogs gnawing marrow from their bones within the hour- What’s that, Fortesque, your lucky cup?”

Dan gently pushed Raziel aside and raised the Chalice over his head. Souls rushed out of it, building themselves new bodies and weapons of spirit steel, and stood to attention behind their captain as they had a century before. Canny Tim saluted and spanned his crossbow; Dirk and Karl waved to him, grinning as they saw the sword and shield in his hands; Raziel’s eyes betrayed his smile as he asked, “Your orders, Captain Fortesque?”

Dan grinned back at him, and shouted, “For the honour of Gallowmere! Charge!”

“Charge!” Zarok echoed, and the two armies met in a symphony of clashing steel.

 

When he realised that the two corporeal weapons in the battle were of no use, Raziel puled Dan out of harm’s way, once more regretting the loss of the Reaver. Dan tried to pull away from him, wanting to be back in the fray.

“If you think I’m going to abandon them again-”

“If you think I’m going to let you be killed-”

Dan made a spirited attempt to twist his arm off and Raziel sighed. “Our weapons are of no use. The best thing we can do is direct the fight from here. You studied strategy. Use it.”

He looked at the scene again, this time with a Captain’s eye. “Tim, back off and give yourself room to fire. Will, cover him. Karl, Robbie needs backup. Hop to it!”

While Dan commanded his troops, Raziel circled the battling men. Peregrine’s men fought with the same valour they had in life, but they were still outnumbered by Zarok’s minions. One man’s soul was already slipping from his bones under the onslaught. Raziel had enough life in him for the both of them. He uncorked the bottle of good lightning and sent a bolt arcing towards the flagging warrior.

A little breathless, he resumed walking between the battling factions, sharing his strength with Daniel’s men. It drained him as the Reaver had, but Nosgoth now seemed far away, closer to a dream than memory. Even Gallowmere was beginning to feel less real…

Dan caught him as his knees gave way. Raziel managed to focus on his worried skull and tried to concentrate on his words.

“What did you do? Raziel, tell me now.”

“Good light’nin’,” he mumbled. “’S tiring.”

“Give that here.” Dan dragged him to the sidelines, then re-entered the fray, still shouting orders.

Raziel watched as the tide of battle turned under Dan’s instruction, the shift driven as much by his life force as his orders. The opposing army was dwindling, each of Zarok’s soldiers fighting at least two of their own. As the final enemy warrior fell, a cheer went up from King Peregrine’s men.

“The battle is won, sir!” Tim gave Dan a quick hug, then stepped back.

Raziel was all but carried to the centre of the celebrating crowd. Dirk set him down and thumped Dan’s shoulder hard enough to make him stagger. “Dan man, you did it! See you on the other side, mate.”

One by one the spectral army faded from human form to glowing souls. Their energy streamed into Daniel and Raziel, returning what had been given, restoring their strength.

The Hero of Gallowmere raised his sword and turned towards the balcony, but Zarok was unimpressed.  “You always were fortunate in battle, Fortesque,” he sneered. “Let us see how you fare against my champion, the late Lord Kardok. He eats people like you for calcium supplements.”

“My own hunger is far darker. I shall tear his soul from his bones before this day is done,” Raziel promised. “But do not be unduly concerned; yours will soon follow.”

Despite his friend’s boast, Dan’s confidence drained through his boots as he heard the approaching hoofbeats. Lord Kardok emerged from the shadows, a cloaked figure atop a skeletal steed with a fiery mane. His flail, imbued with magic, outshone the flames of his beast.

They dived aside as he charged, the spiked ball missing Raziel’s head by inches. “How the hell does he avoid hitting himself with that thing?” he asked as Kardok got the spinning chain back under control and lined up for another charge.

“Practise,” Dan said. “There’s a reason I never had one.”

“But if it rebounded at the wrong angle or got tangled in something the wielder could lose an arm. At best.”

“As I said…”

“Move!”

Once again they dived out of the way of spiky metallic death and once again Kardok almost overbalanced from the missed swing.

“I’ve got a plan, but it’s going to be dangerous for one of us and very dangerous for the other.”

“Okay,” said Raziel, “Tell me.”

On his third run at them, Kardok spurred his steed to go even faster. The coward Fortesque dived out of the way quickly enough, but his little blue companion was not so fortunate. The spiked ball flew over his shield and caught. Kardok reigned his horse in quickly as Raziel pulled. No trouble – he knew how to deal with that. The head of the flail began to burn with magical fire and Kardok grinned when he heard the wraith gasp in pain. The grin froze on his face as a magic sword stabbed up cleanly through his ribcage. Dan removed his blade and Kardok toppled.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I will be.” Raziel tried to massage some life back into his hand, then pulled down his cowl to make good on his promise.

“Bugger!” Zarok said as the soul of his champion was consumed. “Right then, that’s it! I’ve had just about enough of your meddling!”

He left the balcony and a few moments later a voice muttered from the shadows, “Where is that spell?... Ah, yes!”

A green flash of light, a loud clucking, then “No! Not that spell!”

Some mysterious clangs, another flash of light, a baa, and “Oooh… oh, not right now.”

Raziel and Dan shared a look. Some questions were best left unanswered.

“Ha ha! Now I have it!” Zarok shouted triumphantly. Another flash of light filled the room and his final form was revealed. It was a rather disappointing skinny dragon. “None shall defeat the might Zarok!” he screeched. “Prepare to die!- awk! Cluck cluck cluck!” The chicken noises ended with a rather embarrassed clearing of the throat.

Raziel, utterly desensitised after his brothers’ devolution burst into uncontrollable laughter and Dan had to drag him out of the way as Zarok lunged. He followed it up with a sword stroke which bounced right off as if it had hit steel instead of flesh. “Hellfire!”

He grabbed Raziel and ran. It took half the width of the arena to get all four legs organised and for the wraith’s laughter to die.

“Thoughts?” he asked once he trusted himself to talk without starting to giggle again.

“I’ve told enough stories about dragons, but this is the first one I’ve fought, except the one in the caves. I doubt Zarok is decent enough to leave the traditional vulnerable point.”

“Vulnerable point?” Raziel prompted after throwing him out of the way of an orange bolt of lightning.

“Generally the mouth, belly, or in one notable case, arse.” He ducked as Zarok swept his claws at him and continued, “One decent stab to the right place and they’re stone dead.”

“Like us if this goes on much longer.”

Raziel tried to follow Dan’s advice when Zarok lunged at him, but he may as well have tried to stab through stone as break through the shining blue barrier against his skin. Its only result was to enrage the mage-turned-monster. The pair ran as amber sparks crackled along the beast’s flank, growing in strength and size until Zarok looked like he was at the centre of a lightning storm.

The light was so bright, Raziel’s eyes ached even half closed and turned away. It was an old trick mages had used to slow Kain’s conquest. Fledgelings had been devastated by it, but is came at a price. When the storm faded, so would his magic, leaving Zarok without his shield of spells for a few crucial moments.

“When the spell dies, charge.” The light went from unbearable to merely painful and Raziel pushed Dan forwards. “Now!”

Dan reached Zarok just as the last sparks of lightning dissolved and struck the blow history said he had a century before. The spell-woven form shattered, leaving the old sorcerer lying feebly on the ground.

“Curse you, curse you both! I am finally defeated.” Zarok hauled himself up with his staff and continued, “Yet if I am to fail, all shall perish with me. You are doomed! You will never leave this domain!” Calling upon his final reserves of strength, he sent a bolt of lightning into the ceiling above him and causing it to crumble. Raziel and Daniel fled.

“Do you think he escaped that?” Dan asked as they pounded along a collapsing corridor.

“No. I felt his soul fly. The more pressing question is, will we?”

Dodging man sized chunks of falling masonry, they ran past the ruined orrery and out the foyer just in time to see the time device explode. There was no chance of returning by train and the fires were quickly spreading towards them. The mountain’s slopes were steep and barren and threatened death at every step, but staying where they were guaranteed it. With no other choice, they jumped.

 

The scree slopes were the biggest danger. Loose stones slid beneath their feet and not even Raziel’s claws could slow their descent, which he now realised was carrying them inexorably towards a sheer drop.

A muscular arm wrapped around his waist and Raziel started struggling against it, expecting a Shadow Demon bent on revenge.

“Be still, Raziel. I don’t want to drop you.”

“Janos?”

The Ancient took off and started flying steadily away from the collapsing castle with Dan and Raziel clinging onto him for grim death. “The witch’s potion worked wonders, and she said she would arrange us suitable transport. Where is the graveyard boat landing, please?”

The sun rose as Dan directed Janos somewhat erratically towards their destination. Raziel watched the light of dawn wash across the land. Souls fled the bodies of the deceased and reason returned to the living. _Saviour and destroyer_ , he thought. In Gallowmere, at least, it was true.


	22. Free Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally at the end of their adventure, two futures stretch out before our two adventurers. In the best of MediEvil traditions, there are two endings for the readers to choose from.

Two pairs of feet landed gently on the wooden planks of the jetty. Another joined them once Dan was convinced that they really had met the ground this time.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” a familiar voice greeted them in the tones of a funeral bell. “If you would care to hop aboard?”

The little boat was steered out of the harbour and onto a bottomless sea under unmappable stars. The Boatman looked at them with no particular interest, then seemed to remember something. “I know Janos will want to go back to Nosgoth, and Daniel is expected at the Hall of Heroes, but what of you Raziel?”

**Nosgoth**

The wraith was silent for a spell, his gaze flicking between the only two men who had ever shown him selfless kindness. Finally, his eyes came to rest on his newest brother in arms. “Thank you, Daniel, for everything, but I know where my duty lies.”

Dan nodded. “When it is your time, look me up. You’ll still be welcome in the Hall, I’ll make sure of it.”

Raziel pulled him into a brief, bone crushing hug and followed Janos off the boat. Soul Reaver and guardian walked towards their destinies and Daniel watched them until they were out of sight.

**The Hall of Heroes**

This time, Raziel had a choice unburdened by the strings of destiny. He had, he knew, no wish to be tied in them again.

“I have given my life to Nosgoth. And my death. It is time, I think, to give something to myself. Janos, please, please look after yourself, because I will not be joining you.” Raziel pulled his mentor into a hug, trying to put into that one act all the things which had been left unsaid. _I’m so, so sorry for so much, but more than anything I’m sorry that our time together was so short._

He finally broke off and stepped off the boat, joining Dan at the door of the Hall of Heroes.

“Ready?” Dan asked.

“Ready.”

The laughter and music drifting from the hall stopped as the door opened to reveal the two newcomers and was replaced with a cheer. Tankards of ale were pressed into unresisting hands, backs were slapped and toasts were made. Dan tapped his goblet of wine against Raziel’s and unthinkingly downed it. Tried to down it. Raziel joined in the good natured laughter as the wine dripped down his ribcage, finally beyond the reach of his past.


End file.
